Unf- 


IJSRARY 

<nitY   °f  Cal, 

JRV/NE 


THE  LITTLE  SHEPHERD 
OF  KINGDOM  COME 


*M  hain't  uotluu-    <ui  a  boy,  but  I  got  to  ack  lik*  a  man  now." 


THE 

LITTLE  SHEPHERD 
OF  KINGDOM  COME 

BY 
JOHN  FOX,  JR. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
F.  C.  YOHN 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1903,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


tZTo 

CURRIE  DUKE 
DAUGHTER  OF  THE  CHIEF 

AMONG 
MORGAN'S  MEN 

April,  1898 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.    TWO  RUNAWAYS  FROM  LONESOME    .       .  1 

II.    FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY       .  11 

III.  A  "BLAB  SCHOOL"  ON  KINGDOM  COME  .  31 

IV.  THE  COMING  OF  THE  TIDE      ...  54 
V.    OUT  OF  THE  WILDERNESS    ....  66 

VI.    LOST  AT  THE  CAPITAL        ....  77 

VII.    A  FRIEND  ON  THE  ROAD                               e  84 

VIII.    HOME  WITH  THE  MAJOR  ....  95 

IX.    MARGARET  .        .        .        „        ,        .        .110 

X.    THE  BLUEGRASS  .  126 

XL    A  TOURNAMENT       .                 ....  131 

XII.    BACK  TO  KINGDOM  COME         ...  146 

XIIL    ON  TRIAL  FOR  HIS  LIFE       .        .        .        .159 

XIV.    THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  .        .  174 

XV.    TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS      .        .  190 

XVI.    AGAIN  THE  BAR  SINISTER       ...  204 

XVII.    CHADWICK  BUFORD,  GENTLEMAN    .        ,  210 

XVIII.    THE    SPIRIT    OF   76   AND   THE   SHADOW 

OF  '61 224 

vii 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XIX.  THE  BLUE  OR  THE  GRAY  .        ,        .  .233 

XX.  OFF  TO  THE  WAR  242 

XXI.  MELISSA     .                         .        .        .  .254 

XXII.  MORGAN'S  MEN 269 

XXIII.  CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND  .    290 

XXIV.  A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN    310 
XXV.  AFTER  DAWS  DILLON— GUERILLA  337 

XXVI.    BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER  AT  LAST  348 

XXVII.    AT  THE  HOSPITAL  OF  MORGAN'S  MEN  361 

XXVIII.    PALL-BEARERS  OF  THE  LOST  CAUSE    .  369 

XXIX.    MELISSA  AND  MARGARET      .        .        .  377 

XXX.    PEACE 382 

XXXI.    THE  WESTWARD  WAY  401 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  I  hain't  nothin'  but  a  boy,  but   I  got  to 

ack  like  a  man  now  " Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

And  the  boy  drank  in  the  tales 58 

"  Squire,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  trembled,  "Jack's 

my  dog" 1 66 

The  old  man's  lip  shook  and  he  turned  abruptly 

within 250 

Her  face  grew  stern  as  she  waited  for  him  to  answer     300 
Margaret  was  listening  eagerly 388 


THE   LITTLE  SHEPHERD 
OF  KINGDOM  COME 

I 

TWO    RUNAWAYS    FROM    LONESOME 

'  I  AHE  days  of  that  April  had  been  days  of  mist 
and  rain.  Sometimes,  for  hours,  there 
would  come  a  miracle  of  blue  sky,  white  cloud, 
and  yellow  light,  but  always  between  dark  and  dark 
the  rain  would  fall  and  the  mist  creep  up  the  moun 
tains  and  steam  from  the  tops — only  to  roll  to 
gether  from  either  range,  drip  back  into  the  val 
leys,  and  lift,  straightway,  as  mist  again.  So  that, 
all  the  while  Nature  was  trying  to  give  lustier  life 
to  every  living  thing  in  the  lowland  Bluegrass,  all 
the  while  a  gaunt  skeleton  was  stalking  down  the 
Cumberland — tapping  with  fleshless  knuckles,  now 
at  some  unlovely  cottage  of  faded  white  and  green, 
and  now  at  a  log  cabin,  stark  and  gray.  Passing 
the  mouth  of  Lonesome,  he  flashed  his  scythe  into 
its  unlifting  shadows  and  went  stalking  on.  High 
up,  at  the  source  of  the  dismal  little  stream,  the 
point  of  the  shining  blade  darted  thrice  into  the 

I 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM   COME 

open  door  of  a  cabin  set  deep  into  a  shaggy  flank 
of  Black  Mountain,  and  three  spirits,  within,  were 
quickly  loosed  from  aching  flesh  for  the  long  flight 
into  the  unknown. 

It  was  the  spirit  of  the  plague  that  passed,  tak 
ing  with  it  the  breath  of  the  unlucky  and  the  unfit, 
and  in  the  hut  on  Lonesome  three  were  dead — a 
gaunt  mountaineer,  a  gaunt  daughter,  and  a  gaunt 
son.  Later,  the  mother,  too,  "jes'  kind  o'  got  tired," 
as  little  Chad  said,  and  soon  to  her  worn  hands  and 
feet  came  the  well-earned  rest.  Nobody  was  left 
then  but  Chad  and  Jack,  and  Jack  was  a  dog  with 
a  belly  to  feed  and  went  for  less  than  nothing  with 
everybody  but  his  little  master  and  the  chance 
mountaineer  who  had  sheep  to  guard.  So,  for  the 
fourth  time,  Chad,  with  Jack  at  his  heels,  trudged 
up  to  the  point  of  a  wooded  spur  above  the  cabin, 
where,  at  the  foot  of  a  giant  poplar  and  under  a 
wilderness  of  shaking  June  leaves,  were  three  piles 
of  rough  boards,  loosely  covering  three  hillocks  of 
rain-beaten  earth;  and,  near  them,  an  open  grave. 
There  was  no  service  sung  or  spoken  over  the 
dead,  for  the  circuit-rider  was  then  months  away; 
so,  unnoticed,  Chad  stood  behind  the  big  poplar, 
watching  the  neighbors  gently  let  down  into  the 
shallow  trench  a  home-made  coffin,  rudely  hol 
lowed  from  the  half  of  a  bee-gum  log,  and,  un 
noticed,  slipped  away  at  the  first  muffled  stroke  of 
the  dirt — doubling  his  fists  into  his  eyes  and  stum- 

2 


TWO  RUNAWAYS  FROM  LONESOME 

bling  against  the  gnarled  bodies  of  laurel  and 
rhododendron  until,  out  in  a  clear  sunny  space,  he 
dropped  on  a  thick,  velvet  mat  of  moss  and  sobbed 
himself  to  sleep.  When  he  awoke,  Jack  was  lick 
ing  his  face  and  he  sat  up,  dazed  and  yawning. 
The  sun  was  dropping  fast,  the  ravines  were  filling 
with  blue  shadows,  luminous  and  misty,  and  a  far 
drowsy  tinkling  from  the  valley  told  him  that  cows 
were  starting  homeward.  From  habit,  he  sprang 
quickly  to  his  feet,  but,  sharply  conscious  on  a  sud 
den,  dropped  slowly  back  to  the  moss  again,  while 
Jack,  who  had  started  down  the  spur,  circled  back 
to  see  what  the  matter  was,  and  stood  with  uplifted 
foot,  much  puzzled. 

There  had  been  a  consultation  about  Chad  early 
that  morning  among  the  neighbors,  and  old  Na 
than  Cherry,  who  lived  over  on  Stone  Creek,  in 
the  next  cove  but  one,  said  that  he  would  take 
charge  of  the  boy.  Nathan  did  not  wait  for  the 
burial,  but  went  back  home  for  his  wagon,  leav 
ing  word  that  Chad  was  to  stay  all  night  with  a 
neighbor  and  meet  him  at  the  death-stricken  cabin 
an  hour  by  sun.  The  old  man  meant  to  have  Chad 
bound  to  him  for  seven  years  by  law — the  boy  had 
been  told  that — and  Nathan  hated  dogs  as  much 
as  Chad  hated  Nathan.  So  the  lad  did  not  lie  long. 
He  did  not  mean  to  be  bound  out,  nor  to  have  Jack 
mistreated,  and  he  rose  quickly  and  Jack  sprang 
before  him  down  the  rocky  path  and  toward  the 

3 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

hut  that  had  been  a  home  to  both.  Under  the  pop 
lar,  Jack  sniffed  curiously  at  the  new-made  grave, 
and  Chad  called  him  away  so  sharply  that  Jack's 
tail  drooped  and  he  crept  toward  his  master,  as 
though  to  ask  pardon  for  a  fault  of  which  he  was 
not  conscious.  For  one  moment,  Chad  stood  look 
ing.  Again  the  stroke  of  the  falling  earth  smote 
his  ears  and  his  eyes  filled;  a  curious  pain  caught 
him  by  the  throat  and  he  passed  on,  whistling- 
down  into  the  shadows  below  to  the  open  door  of 
the  cabin. 

It  was  deathly  still.  The  homespun  bedclothes 
and  hand-made  quilts  of  brilliant  colors  had  been 
thrown  in  a  heap  on  one  of  the  two  beds  of  hickory 
withes;  the  kitchen  utensils — a  crane  and  a  few 
pots  and  pans — had  been  piled  on  the  hearth, 
along  with  strings  of  herbs  and  beans  and  red 
pepper-pods — all  ready  for  old  Nathan  when  he 
should  come  over  for  them,  next  morning,  with  his 
wagon.  Not  a  living  thing  was  to  be  heard  or  seen 
that  suggested  human  life,  and  Chad  sat  down  in 
the  deepening  loneliness,  watching  the  shadows 
rise  up  the  green  walls  that  bound  him  in,  and  won 
dering  what  he  should  do,  and  where  he  should  go, 
if  he  was  not  to  go  to  old  Nathan;  while  Jack,  who 
seemed  to  know  that  some  crisis  was  come,  settled 
on  his  haunches  a  little  way  off,  to  wait,  with  per 
fect  faith  and  patience,  for  the  boy  to  make  up  his 
mind. 


TWO  RUNAWAYS  FROM  LONESOME 

It  was  the  first  time,  perhaps,  that  Chad  had 
ever  thought  very  seriously  about  himself,  or  won 
dered  who  he  was,  or  whence  he  had  come.  Dig 
ging  back  into  his  memory  as  far  as  he  could,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  what  had  just  happened  now 
had  happened  to  him  once  before,  and  that  he  had 
simply  wandered  away.  He  could  not  recollect 
where  he  had  started  from  first,  but  he  could  recall 
many  of  the  places  where  he  had  lived,  and  why  he 
had  left  them — usually  because  somebody,  like  old 
Nathan,  had  wanted  to  have  him  bound  out,  or 
had  misused  Jack,  or  would  not  let  the  two  stray  off 
into  the  woods  together,  when  there  was  nothing 
else  to  be  done.  He  had  stayed  longest  where  he 
was  now,  because  the  old  man  and  his  son  and  his 
girl  had  all  taken  a  great  fancy  to  Jack,  and  had 
let  the  two  guard  cattle  in  the  mountains  and  drive 
sheep  and,  if  they  stayed  out  in  the  woods  over 
night,  struck  neither  a  stroke  of  hand  nor  tongue. 
The  old  mother  had  been  his  mother  and,  once 
more,  Chad  leaned  his  head  against  the  worn  lintel 
and  wept  silently.  So  far,  nobody  had  seemed  to 
care  particularly  who  he  was,  or  was  not — nor  had 
Chad.  Most  people  were  very  kind  to  him,  look 
ing  upon  him  as  one  of  the  wandering  waifs  that 
one  finds  throughout  the  Cumberland,  upon  whom 
the  good  folks  of  the  mountains  do  not  visit  the 
father's  sin.  He  knew  what  he  was  thought  to  be, 
and  it  mattered  so  little,  since  it  made  no  discrimi- 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

nation  against  him,  that  he  had  accepted  it  with 
out  question.  It  did  not  matter  now,  except  as  it 
bore  on  the  question  as  to  where  he  should  start 
his  feet.  It  was  a  long  time  for  him  to  have  stayed 
in  one  place,  and  the  roving  memories,  stirred 
within  him  now,  took  root,  doubtless,  in  the  restless 
spirit  that  had  led  his  unknown  ancestor  into  those 
mountain  wilds  after  the  Revolution. 

All  this  while  he  had  been  sitting  on  the  low 
threshold,  with  his  elbows  in  the  hollows  of  his 
thighs  and  his  left  hand  across  his  mouth.  Once 
more,  he  meant  to  be  bound  to  no  man's  service 
and,  at  the  final  thought  of  losing  Jack,  the  liberty- 
loving  little  tramp  spat  over  his  hand  with  sharp 
decision  and  rose. 

Just  above  him  and  across  the  buck  antlers  over 
the  door,  lay  a  long  flint-lock  rifle;  a  bullet-pouch, 
a  powder-horn,  and  a  small  raccoon-skin  haversack 
hung  from  one  of  the  prongs:  and  on  them  the  boy's 
eyes  rested  longingly.  Old  Nathan,  he  knew, 
claimed  that  the  dead  man  had  owed  him  money; 
and  he  further  knew  that  old  Nathan  meant  to  take 
all  he  could  lay  his  hands  on  in  payment:  but  he 
climbed  resolutely  upon  a  chair  and  took  the  things 
down,  arguing  the  question,  meanwhile: 

"Uncle  Jim  said  once  he  aimed  to  give  this  rifle 
gun  to  me.  Mebbe  he  was  foolin',  but  I  don't  be 
lieve  he  owed  ole  Nathan  so  much,  an',  anyways," 
he  muttered  grimly,  "I  reckon  Uncle  Jim  'ud  kind 

6 


TWO  RUNAWAYS  FROM  LONESOME 

o'  like  fer  me  to  git  the  better  of  that  ole  devil — 
jes'  a  leetle,  anyways." 

The  rifle,  he  knew,  was  always  loaded;  there  was 
not  much  powder  in  the  horn  and  there  were  not 
more  than  a  dozen  bullets  in  the  pouch,  but  they 
would  last  him  until  he  could  get  far  away.  No 
more  would  he  take,  however,  than  what  he 
thought  he  could  get  along  with — one  blanket  from 
the  bed  and,  from  the  fireplace,  a  little  bacon  and 
a  pone  of  corn-bread. 

"An*  I  know  Aunt  Jane  wouldn't  'a'  keered 
about  these  leetle  fixin's,  fer  I  have  to  have  'em,  an* 
I  know  Fve  earned  'em  anyways." 

Then  he  closed  the  door  softly  on  the  spirits 
of  the  dead  within,  and  caught  the  short,  deer 
skin  latch-string  to  the  wooden  pin  outside.  With 
his  Barlow  knife,  he  swiftly  stripped  a  bark  string 
from  a  pawpaw  bush  near  by,  folded  and  tied 
his  blanket,  and  was  swinging  the  little  pack 
to  his  shoulder,  when  the  tinkle  of  a  cow-bell 
came  through  the  bushes,  close  at  hand.  Old 
Nance,  lean  and  pied,  was  coming  home;  he  had 
forgotten  her,  it  was  getting  late,  and  he  was  anx 
ious  to  leave  for  fear  some  neighbor  might  come; 
but  there  was  no  one  to  milk  and,  when  she  drew 
near  with  a  low  moo,  he  saw  that  her  udders  were 
full  and  dripping.  It  would  hurt  her  to  go  un- 
milked,  so  Chad  put  his  things  down  and  took  up 
a  cedar  piggin  from  a  shelf  outside  the  cabin  and 

7 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

did  the  task  thoroughly — putting  the  stoppings  in 
a  cup  and,  so  strong  was  the  habit  in  him,  hurrying 
with  both  to  the  rude  spring-house  and  setting  them 
in  cool  running  water.  A  moment  more  and  he  had 
his  pack  and  his  rifle  on  one  shoulder  and  was 
climbing  the  fence  at  the  wood-pile.  There  he 
stopped  once  more  with  a  sudden  thought,  and 
wrenching  loose  a  short  axe  from  the  face  of  a 
hickory  log,  staggered  under  the  weight  of  his 
weapons  up  the  mountain.  The  sun  was  yet  an  hour 
high  and,  on  the  spur,  he  leaned  his  rifle  against 
the  big  poplar  and  set  to  work  with  his  axe  on  a 
sapling  close  by — talking  frankly  now  to  the  God 
who  made  him: 

"I  reckon  You  know  it,  but  I'm  a-goin'  to  run 
away  now.  I  hain't  got  no  daddy  an'  no  mammy, 
an'  I  hain't  nuver  had  none  as  I  knows — but  Aunt 
Jane  hyeh — she's  been  jes'  like  a  mother  to  me  an' 
I'm  a-doin'  fer  her  jes'  whut  I  wish  You'd  have 
somebody  do  fer  my  mother,  ef  You  know  whar 
she's  a-layin'." 

Eight  round  sticks  he  cut  swiftly — four  long 
and  four  short — and  with  these  he  built  a  low 
pen,  as  is  the  custom  of  the  mountaineers,  close 
about  the  fresh  mound,  and,  borrowing  a  board 
or  two  from  each  of  the  other  mounds,  covered 
the  grave  from  the  rain.  Then  he  sunk  the  axe 
into  the  trunk  of  the  great  poplar  as  high  up 
as  he  could  reach — so  that  it  could  easily  be  seen 


TWO  RUNAWAYS  FROM  LONESOME 

— and,  brushing  the  sweat  from  his  face,  he  knelt 
down: 

"God!"  he  said,  simply,  "I  hain't  nothin'  but 
a  boy,  but  I  got  to  ack  like  a  man  now.  I'm  a-goin' 
now.  I  don't  believe  You  keer  much  and  seems 
like  I  bring  ever'body  bad  luck:  an'  I'm  a-goin'  to 
live  up  hyeh  on  the  mountain  jes'  as  long  as  I  can. 
I  don't  want  you  to  think  I'm  a-complainin' — fer 
I  ain't.  Only  hit  does  seem  sort  o'  curious  that 
You'd  let  me  be  down  hyeh — with  me  a-keerin'  fer 
nobody  now,  an'  nobody  a-keerin'  fer  me.  But 
Thy  ways  is  inscrutable — leastwise,  that's  whut  the 
circuit-rider  says — an'  I  ain't  got  a  word  more  to 
say — Amen." 

Chad  rose  then  and  Jack,  who  had  sat  perfectly 
still,  with  his  head  cocked  to  one  side,  and  his  ears 
straight  forward  in  wonder  over  this  strange  pro 
ceeding,  sprang  into  the  air,  when  Chad  picked  up 
his  gun,  and,  with  a  joyful  bark,  circled  a  clump 
of  bushes  and  sped  back,  leaping  as  high  as  the  lit 
tle  fellow's  head  and  trying  to  lick  his  face — for 
Jack  was  a  rover,  too. 

The  sun  was  low  when  the  two  waifs  turned  their 
backs  upon  it,  and  the  blue  shadows  in  valley  and 
ravine  were  darkening  fast.  Down  the  spur  they 
went  swiftly — across  the  river  and  up  the  slope 
of  Pine  Mountain.  As  they  climbed,  Chad  heard 
the  last  faint  sound  of  a  cow-bell  far  below  him 
and  he  stopped  short,  with  a  lump  in  his  throat  that 

9 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

hurt.  Soon  darkness  fell,  and,  on  the  very  top,  the 
boy  made  a  fire  with  his  flint  and  steel,  cooked  a  lit 
tle  bacon,  warmed  his  corn-pone,  munched  them 
and,  wrapping  his  blanket  around  him  and  letting 
Jack  curl  into  the  hollow  of  his  legs  and  stomach, 
turned  his  face  to  the  kindly  stars  and  went  to  sleep 


II 

FIGHTING   THEIR   WAY 

I^WICE,  during  the  night,  Jack  roused  him  by 
trying  to  push  himself  farther  under  the 
blanket  and  Chad  rose  to  rebuild  the  fire.  The 
third  time  he  was  awakened  by  the  subtle  pre 
science  of  dawn  and  his  eyes  opened  on  a  flaming 
radiance  in  the  east.  Again  from  habit  he  started 
to  spring  hurriedly  to  his  feet  and,  again  sharply 
conscious,  he  lay  down  again.  There  was  no  wood 
to  cut,  no  fire  to  rekindle,  no  water  to  carry  from 
the  spring,  no  cow  to  milk,  no  corn  to  hoe;  there 
was  nothing  to  do — nothing.  Morning  after  morn 
ing,  with  a  day's  hard  toil  at  a  man's  task  before 
him,  what  would  he  not  have  given,  when  old  Jim 
called  him,  to  have  stretched  his  aching  little  legs 
down  the  folds  of  the  thick  feather-bed  and 
slipped  back  into  the  delicious  rest  of  sleep  and 
dreams  ?  Now  he  was  his  own  master  and,  with  a 
happy  sense  of  freedom,  he  brushed  the  dew  from 
his  face  and,  shifting  the  chunk  under  his  head, 
pulled  his  old  cap  down  a  little  more  on  one  side 
and  closed  his  eyes.  But  sleep  would  not  come  and 

II 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

Chad  had  his  first  wonder  over  the  perverse  result 
of  the  full  choice  to  do,  or  not  to  do.  At  once,  the 
first  keen  savor  of  freedom  grew  less  sweet  to  his 
nostrils  and,  straightway,  he  began  to  feel  the  first 
pressure  of  the  chain  of  duties  that  was  to  be  forged 
for  him  out  of  his  perfect  liberty,  link  by  link,  and 
he  lay  vaguely  wondering. 

Meanwhile,  the  lake  of  dull  red  behind  the 
jagged  lines  of  rose  and  crimson  that  streaked  the 
east  began  to  glow  and  look  angry.  A  sheen  of 
fiery  vapor  shot  upward  and  spread  swiftly  over 
the  miracle  of  mist  that  had  been  wrought  in  the 
night.  An  ocean  of  it  and,  white  and  thick  as  snow- 
dust,  it  filled  valley,  chasm,  and  ravine  with  mys 
tery  and  silence  up  to  the  dark  jutting  points  and 
dark  waving  lines  of  range  after  range  that  looked 
like  breakers,  surged  up  by  some  strange  new  law 
from  an  under-sea  of  foam;  motionless,  it  swept 
down  the  valleys,  poured  swift  torrents  through 
high  gaps  in  the  hills  and  one  long  noiseless  cataract 
over  a  lesser  range — all  silent,  all  motionless,  like 
a  great  white  sea  stilled  in  the  fury  of  a  storm. 
Morning  after  morning,  the  boy  had  looked  upon 
just  such  glory,  calmly  watching  the  mist  part,  like 
the  waters,  for  the  land,  and  the  day  break,  with 
one  phrase,  "Let  there  be  light,"  ever  in  his  mind— 
for  Chad  knew  his  Bible.  And,  most  often,  in  soft 
splendor,  trailing  cloud-mist,  and  yellow  light 
leaping  from  crest  to  crest,  and  in  the  singing  of 

12 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

\xtfds  and  the  shining  of  leaves  and  dew — there  was 
light. 

But  that  morning  there  was  a  hush  in  the  woods 
that  Chad  understood.  On  a  sudden,  a  light  wind 
scurried  through  the  trees  and  showered  the  mist- 
drops  down.  The  smoke  from  his  fire  shot  through 
the  low  undergrowth,  without  rising,  and  the  start 
ing  mists  seemed  to  clutch  with  long,  white  fingers 
at  the  tree-tops,  as  though  loath  to  leave  the  safe, 
warm  earth  for  the  upper  air.  A  little  later,  he  felt 
some  great  shadow  behind  him,  and  he  turned  his 
face  to  see  black  clouds  marshalling  on  either  flank 
of  the  heavens  and  fitting  their  black  wings  to 
gether,  as  though  the  retreating  forces  of  the  night 
were  gathering  for  a  last  sweep  against  the  east. 
A  sword  flashed  blindingly  from  the  dome  high 
above  them  and,  after  it,  came  one  shaking  peal 
that  might  have  been  the  command  to  charge,  for 
Chad  saw  the  black  hosts  start  fiercely.  Afar  off, 
the  wind  was  coming;  the  trees  began  to  sway 
above  him,  and  the  level  sea  of  mist  below  began 
to  swell,  and  the  wooded  breakers  seemed  to  pitch 
angrily. 

Challenging  tongues  ran  quivering  up  the  east, 
and  the  lake  of  red  coals  under  them  began  to  heave 
fiercely  in  answer.  On  either  side  the  lightning 
leaped  upward  and  forward,  striking  straight  and 
low,  sometimes,  as  though  it  were  ripping  up  the 
horizon  to  let  into  the  conflict  the  host  of  dropping 


THE   LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

stars.  Then  the  artillery  of  the  thunder  crashed 
in  earnest  through  the  shaking  heavens,  and  the 
mists  below  pitched  like  smoke  belched  from  gi 
gantic  unseen  cannon.  The  coming  sun  answered 
with  upleaping  swords  of  fire  and,  as  the  black 
thunder  hosts  swept  overhead,  Chad  saw,  for  one 
moment,  the  whole  east  in  a  writhing  storm  of  fire. 
A  thick  darkness  rose  from  the  first  crash  of  battle 
and,  with  the  rush  of  wind  and  rain,  the  mighty 
conflict  went  on  unseen. 

Chad  had  seen  other  storms  at  sunrise,  but  some 
thing  happened  now  and  he  could  never  recall  the 
others  nor  ever  forget  this.  All  it  meant  to  him, 
young  as  he  was  then,  was  unrolled  slowly  as  the 
years  came  on — more  than  the  first  great  rebellion 
of  the  powers  of  darkness  when,  in  the  beginning, 
the  Master  gave  the  first  command  that  the  seven 
days'  work  of  His  hand  should  float  through  space, 
smitten  with  the  welcoming  rays  of  a  million  suns; 
more  than  the  beginning  thus  of  light — of  life; 
more  even  than  the  first  birth  of  a  spirit  in  a  living 
thing:  for,  long  afterward,  he  knew  that  it  meant 
the  dawn  of  a  new  consciousness  to  him — the  birth 
of  a  new  spirit  within  him,  and  the  foreshadowed 
pain  of  its  slow  mastery  over  his  passion-racked 
body  and  heart.  Never  was  there  a  crisis,  bodily 
or  spiritual,  on  the  battle-field  or  alone  under  the 
stars,  that  this  storm  did  not  come  back  to  him. 
And,  always,  through  all  doubt,  and,  indeed,  in  the 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

end,  when  it  came  to  him  for  the  last  time  on  his 
bed  of  death,  the  slow  and  sullen  dispersion  of  wind 
and  rain  on  the  mountain  that  morning  far,  far 
back  in  his  memory,  and  the  quick  coming  of  the 
Sun-king's  victorious  light  over  the  glad  hills  and 
trees  held  out  to  him  the  promise  of  a  final  victory 
to  the  Sun-king's  King  over  the  darkness  of  all 
death  and  the  final  coming  to  his  own  brave  spirit 
of  peace  and  rest. 

So  Chad,  with  Jack  drawn  close  to  him,  lay  back, 
awe-stricken  and  with  his  face  wet  from  mysterious 
tears.  The  comfort  of  the  childish  self-pity  that 
came  with  every  thought  of  himself,  wandering,  a 
lost  spirit  along  the  mountain-tops,  was  gone  like 
a  dream  and  ready  in  his  heart  was  the  strong  new 
purpose  to  strike  into  the  world  for  himself.  He 
even  took  it  as  a  good  omen,  when  he  rose,  to  find 
his  fire  quenched,  the  stopper  of  his  powder-horn 
out,  and  the  precious  black  grains  scattered  hope 
lessly  on  the  wet  earth.  There  were  barely  more 
than  three  charges  left,  and  something  had  to  be 
done  at  once.  First,  he  must  get  farther  away  from 
old  Nathan:  the  neighbors  might  search  for  him 
and  find  him  and  take  him  back. 

So  he  started  out,  brisk  and  shivering,  along  the 
ridge  path  with  Jack  bouncing  before  him.  An 
hour  later,  he  came  upon  a  hollow  tree,  filled  with 
doty  wood  which  he  could  tear  out  with  his  hands 
and  he  built  a  fire  and  broiled  a  little  more  bacon. 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM   COME 

Jack  got  only  a  bit  this  time  and  barked  reproach 
fully  for  more;  but  Chad  shook  his  head  and  the 
dog  started  out,  with  both  eyes  open,  to  look  for 
his  own  food.  The  sun  was  high  enough  now  to 
make  the  drenched  world  flash  like  an  emerald 
and  its  warmth  felt  good,  as  Chad  tramped  the 
topmost  edge  of  Pine  Mountain,  where  the  brush 
was  not  thick  and  where,  indeed,  he  often  found 
a  path  running  a  short  way  and  turning  into  some 
ravine — the  trail  of  cattle  and  sheep  and  the  path 
way  between  one  little  valley  settlement  and  an 
other.  He  must  have  made  ten  miles  and  more  by 
noon — for  he  was  a  sturdy  walker  and  as  tireless 
almost  as  Jack — and  ten  miles  is  a  long  way  in  the 
mountains,  even  now.  So,  already,  Chad  was  far 
enough  away  to  have  no  fear  of  pursuit,  even  if  old 
Nathan  wanted  him  back,  which  was  doubtful.  On 
the  top  of  the  next  point,  Jack  treed  a  squirrel  and 
Chad  took  a  rest  and  brought  him  down,  shot 
through  the  head  and,  then  and  there,  skinned  and 
cooked  him  and  divided  with  Jack  squarely. 

"Jack,"  he  said,  as  he  reloaded  his  gun,  "we 
can't  keep  this  up  much  longer.  I  hain't  got  more'n 
two  more  loads  o'  powder  here." 

And,  thereupon,  Jack  leaped  suddenly  in  the  air 
and,  turning  quite  around,  lighted  with  his  nose 
pointed,  as  it  was  before  he  sprang.  Chad  cocked 
the  old  gun  and  stepped  forward.  A  low  hiss 
ing  whir  rose  a  few  feet  to  one  side  of  the  path 

16 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

and,  very  carefully,  the  boy  climbed  a  fallen  trunk 
and  edged  his  way,  very  carefully,  toward  the 
sound:  and  there,  by  a  dead  limb  and  with  his  ugly 
head  reared  three  inches  above  his  coil  of  springs, 
was  a  rattlesnake.  The  sudden  hate  in  the  boy's 
face  was  curious — it  was  instinctive,  primitive, 
deadly.  He  must  shoot  ofF-hand  now  and  he 
looked  down  the  long  barrel,  shaded  with  tin,  until 
the  sight  caught  on  one  of  the  beady,  unblinking 
eyes  and  pulled  the  trigger.  Jack  leaped  with  the 
sound,  in  spite  of  Chad's  yell  of  warning,  which 
was  useless,  for  the  ball  had  gone  true  and  the  poi 
son  was  set  loose  in  the  black,  crushed  head. 

r'Jack,"  said  Chad,  "we  just  got  to  go  down 
now." 

So  they  went  on  swiftly  through  the  heat  of  the 
early  afternoon.  It  was  very  silent  up  there.  Now 
and  then,  a  brilliant  blue-jay  would  lilt  from  a 
stunted  oak  with  the  flute-like  love-notes  of  spring; 
or  a  lonely  little  brown  fellow  would  hop  with  a 
low  chirp  from  one  bush  to  another  as  though  he 
had  been  lost  up  there  for  years  and  had  grown 
quite  hopeless  about  seeing  his  kind  again.  When 
there  was  a  gap  in  the  mountains,  he  could  hear  the 
querulous,  senseless  love-quarrel  of  flickers  going 
on  below  him;  passing  a  deep  ravine,  the  note  of 
the  wood-thrush — that  shy  lyrist  of  the  hills- 
might  rise  to  him  from  a  dense  covert  of  maple 
and  beech:  or,  with  a  startling  call,  a  red-crested 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

cock  of  the  woods  would  beat  his  white-striped 
wings  from  spur  to  spur,  as  though  he  were  keep 
ing  close  to  the  long  swells  of  an  unseen  sea.  Sev 
eral  times,  a  pert  flicker  squatting  like  a  knot 
to  a  dead  limb  or  the  crimson  plume  of  a  cock  of 
the  woods,  as  plain  as  a  splash  of  blood  on  a  wall 
of  vivid  green,  tempted  him  to  let  loose  his  last 
load,  but  he  withstood  them.  A  little  later,  he  saw 
a  fresh  bear-track  near  a  spring  below  the  head  of 
a  ravine;  and,  later  still,  he  heard  the  far-away 
barking  of  a  hound  and  a  deer  leaped  lightly  into 
an  open  sunny  spot  and  stood  with  uplifted  hoof 
and  pointed  ears.  This  was  too  much  and  the  boy's 
gun  followed  his  heart  to  his  throat,  but  the  buck 
sprang  lightly  into  the  bush  and  vanished  noise 
lessly. 

The  sun  had  dropped  midway  between  the 
zenith  and  the  blue  bulks  rolling  westward  and, 
at  the  next  gap,  a  broader  path  ran  through  it 
and  down  the  mountain.  This,  Chad  knew,  led 
to  a  settlement  and,  with  a  last  look  of  choking 
farewell  to  his  own  world,  he  turned  down.  At 
once,  the  sense  of  possible  human  companionship 
was  curiously  potent:  at  once,  the  boy's  half-wild 
manner  changed  and,  though  alert  and  still  watch 
ful,  he  whistled  cheerily  to  Jack,  threw  his  gun 
over  his  shoulder,  and  walked  erect  and  confident. 
His  pace  slackened.  Carelessly  now  his  feet 
tramped  beds  of  soft  exquisite  moss  and  lone  little 

18 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

settlements  of  forget-me-nots,  and  his  long  rifle- 
barrel  brushed  laurel  blossoms  down  in  a  shower 
behind  him.  Once  even,  he  picked  up  one  of  the 
pretty  bells  and  looked  idly  at  it,  turning  it  bottom 
upward.  The  waxen  cup  might  have  blossomed 
from  a  tiny  waxen  star.  There  was  a  little  green 
star  for  a  calyx;  above  this,  a  little  white  star  with 
its  prongs  outstretched — tiny  arms  to  hold  up  the 
pink-flecked  chalice  for  the  rain  and  dew.  There 
came  a  time  when  he  thought  of  it  as  a  star-blos 
som;  but  now  his  greedy  tongue  swept  the  honey 
from  it  and  he  dropped  it  without  another  thought 
to  the  ground.  At  the  first  spur  down  which  the 
road  turned,  he  could  see  smoke  in  the  valley.  The 
laurel  blooms  and  rhododendron  bells  hung  in 
thicker  clusters  and  of  a  deeper  pink.  Here  and 
there  was  a  blossoming  wild  cucumber  and  an  um 
brella-tree  with  huger  flowers  and  leaves;  and, 
sometimes,  a  giant  magnolia  with  a  thick  creamy 
flower  that  the  boy  could  not  have  spanned  with 
both  hands  and  big,  thin  oval  leaves,  a  man's  stride 
from  tip  to  stem.  Soon,  he  was  below  the  sunlight 
and  in  the  cool  shadows  where  the  water  ran 
noisily  and  the  air  hummed  with  the  wings  of  bees. 
On  the  last  spur,  he  came  upon  a  cow  browsing  on 
sassafras-bushes  right  in  the  path  and  the  last 
shadow  of  his  loneliness  straightway  left  him.  She 
was  old,  mild,  and  unfearing,  and  she  started  down 
the  road  in  front  of  him  as  though  she  thought  he 

19 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

had  come  to  drive  her  home,  or  as  though  she  knew 
he  was  homeless  and  was  leading  him  to  shelter.  A 
little  farther  on,  the  river  flashed  up  a  welcome  to 
him  through  the  trees  and  at  the  edge  of  the  water, 
her  mellow  bell  led  him  down  stream  and  he  fol 
lowed.  In  the  next  hollow,  he  stooped  to  drink 
from  a  branch  that  ran  across  the  road  and,  when 
he  rose  to  start  again,  his  bare  feet  stopped  as 
though  riven  suddenly  to  the  ground;  for,  half 
way  up  the  next  low  slope,  was  another  figure  as 
motionless  as  his — with  a  bare  head,  bare  feet,  a 
startled  face  and  wide  eyes — but  motionless  only 
until  the  eyes  met  his:  then  there  was  a  flash  of 
bright  hair  and  scarlet  homespun,  and  the  little 
feet,  that  had  trod  down  the  centuries  to  meet  his, 
left  the  earth  as  though  they  had  wings  and  Chad 
saw  them,  in  swift  flight,  pass  silently  over  the  hill. 
The  next  moment,  Jack  came  too  near  the  old 
brindle  and,  with  a  sweep  of  her  horns  at  him  and 
a  toss  of  tail  and  heels  in  the  air,  she,  too,  swept 
over  the  slope  and  on,  until  the  sound  of  her  bell 
passed  out  of  hearing.  Even  to-day,  in  lonely 
parts  of  the  Cumberland,  the  sudden  coming  of  a 
stranger  may  put  women  and  children  to  flight — 
something  like  this  had  happened  before  to  Chad 
— but  the  sudden  desertion  and  the  sudden  silence 
drew  him  in  a  flash  back  to  the  lonely  cabin  he  had 
left  and  the  lonely  graves  under  the  big  poplar  and, 
with  a  quivering  lip,  he  sat  down.  Jack,  too, 

20 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

dropped  to  his  haunches  and  sat  hopeless,  but  not 
for  long.  The  chill  of  night  was  coming  on  and 
Jack  was  getting  hungry.  So  he  rose  presently  and 
trotted  ahead  and  squatted  again,  looking  back  and 
waiting.  But  still  Chad  sat  irresolute  and,  in  a 
moment,  Jack  heard  something  that  disturbed  him, 
for  he  threw  his  ears  toward  the  top  of  the  hill  and, 
with  a  growl,  trotted  back  to  Chad  and  sat  close  to 
him,  looking  up  the  slope.  Chad  rose  then  with  his 
thumb  on  the  lock  of  his  gun  and  over  the  hill  came 
a  tall  figure  and  a  short  one,  about  Chad's  size; 
and  a  dog,  with  white  feet  and  white  face,  that  was 
bigger  than  Jack:  and  behind  them,  three  more  fig 
ures,  one  of  which  was  the  tallest  of  the  group.  All 
stopped  when  they  saw  Chad,  who  dropped  the  butt 
of  his  gun  at  once  to  the  ground.  At  once  the 
strange  dog,  with  a  low  snarl,  started  down  toward 
the  two  little  strangers  with  his  yellow  ears  pointed, 
the  hair  bristling  along  his  back,  and  his  teeth  in 
sight.  Jack  answered  the  challenge  with  an  eager 
whimper,  but  dropped  his  tail,  at  Chad's  sharp 
command — for  Chad  did  not  care  to  meet  the 
world  as  an  enemy,  when  he  was  looking  for  a 
friend.  The  group  stood  dumb  with  astonish 
ment  for  a  moment  and  the  small  boy's  mouth 
was  wide-open  with  surprise,  but  the  strange 
dog  came  on  with  his  tail  rigid,  and  lifting  his 
feet  high. 

"Begone!"    said   Chad,   sharply,    but   the   dog 
21 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

would  not  begone;  he  still  came  on  as  though  bent 
on  a  fight. 

"Call  yo'  dog  off,"  Chad  called  aloud.  "My 
dog'll  kill  him.  You  better  call  him  off,"  he  called 
again,  in  some  concern,  but  the  tall  boy  in  front 
laughed  scornfully. 

"Let's  see  him,"  he  said,  and  the  small  one 
laughed,  too. 

Chad's  eyes  flashed — no  boy  can  stand  an  insult 
to  his  dog — and  the  curves  of  his  open  lips  snapped 
together  in  a  straight  red  line.  "All  right,"  he 
said,  placidly,  and,  being  tired,  he  dropped  back  on 
a  stone  by  the  wayside  to  await  results.  The  very 
tone  of  his  voice  struck  all  shackles  of  restraint 
from  Jack,  who,  with  a  springy  trot,  went  forward 
slowly,  as  though  he  were  making  up  a  definite  plan 
of  action;  for  Jack  had  a.  fighting  way  of  his  own, 
which  Chad  knew. 

"Sick  him,  Whizzer!"  shouted  the  tall  boy,  and 
the  group  of  five  hurried  eagerly  down  the  hill  and 
halted  in  a  half  circle  about  Jack  and  Chad:  so  that 
it  looked  an  uneven  conflict,  indeed,  for  the  two 
waifs  from  over  Pine  Mountain. 

The  strange  dog  was  game  and  wasted  no  time. 
With  a  bound  he  caught  Jack  by  the  throat,  tossed 
him  several  feet  away,  and  sprang  for  him  again. 
Jack  seemed  helpless  against  such  strength  and 
fury,  but  Chad's  face  was  as  placid  as  though  it 
had  been  Jack  who  was  playing  the  winning  game. 

22 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

Jack  himself  seemed  little  disturbed;  he  took  his 
punishment  without  an  outcry  of  rage  or  pain. 
You  would  have  thought  he  had  quietly  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  all  he  could  hope  to  do  was  to 
stand  the  strain  until  his  opponent  had  worn  him 
self  out.  But  that  was  not  Jack's  game,  and  Chad 
knew  it.  The  tall  boy  was  chuckling,  and  his 
brother  of  Chad's  age  was  bent  almost  double  with 
delight. 

"Kill  my  dawg,  will  he  ?"  he  cried,  shrilly. 

"Oh,  Lawdy!"  groaned  the  tall  one. 

Jack  was  much  bitten  and  chewed  by  this  time, 
and,  while  his  pluck  and  purpose  seemed  un 
changed,  Chad  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  was  be 
ginning  to  look  anxious.  The  three  silent  specta 
tors  behind  pressed  forward  and,  for  the  first  time, 
one  of  these — the  tallest  of  the  group — spoke: 

"Take  yo'  dawg  off,  Daws  Dillon,"  he  said,  with 
quiet  authority;  but  Daws  shook  his  head,  and  the 
little  brother  looked  indignant. 

"He  said  he'd  kill  him,"  said  Daws,  tauntingly. 

"Yo'  dawg's  bigger  and  hit  ain't  fair,"  said  the 
other  again  and,  seeing  Chad's  worried  look,  he 
pressed  suddenly  forward;  but  Chad  had  begun  to 
smile,  and  was  sitting  down  on  his  stone  again. 
Jack  had  leaped  this  time,  with  his  first  growl  dur 
ing  the  fight,  and  Whizzer  gave  a  sharp  cry  of  sur 
prise  and  pain.  Jack  had  caught  him  by  the  throat, 
close  behind  the  jaws,  and  the  big  dog  shook  and 

23 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

growled  and  shook  again.  Sometimes  Jack  was 
lifted  quite  from  the  ground,  but  he  seemed 
clamped  to  his  enemy  to  stay.  Indeed  he  shut  his 
eyes,  finally,  and  seemed  to  go  quite  to  sleep.  The 
big  dog  threshed  madly  and  swung  and  twisted, 
howling  with  increasing  pain  and  terror  and  in 
creasing  weakness,  while  Jack's  face  was  as  peace 
ful  as  though  he  were  a  puppy  once  more  and 
hanging  to  his  mother's  neck  instead  of  her  breast, 
asleep.  By  and  by,  Whizzer  ceased  to  shake  and 
began  to  pant;  and,  thereupon,  Jack  took  his  turn 
at  shaking,  gently  at  first,  but  with  maddening  reg 
ularity  and  without  at  all  loosening  his  hold.  The 
big  dog  was  too  weak  to  resist  soon  and,  when  Jack 
began  to  jerk  savagely,  Whizzer  began  to  gasp. 

"You  take  yo'  dawg  off,"  called  Daws,  sharply. 

Chad  never  moved. 

"Will  you  say  'nough  for  him?"  he  asked, 
quietly;  and  the  tall  one  of  the  silent  three 
laughed. 

"Call  him  off,  I  tell  ye,"  repeated  Daws,  sav 
agely;  but  again  Chad  never  moved,  and  Daws 
started  for  a  club.  Chad's  new  friend  came  for 
ward. 

"  Hoi'  on,  now,  hoi'  on,"  he  said,  easily.  "  None 
o'  that,  I  reckon." 

Daws  stopped  with  an  oath.  "  Whut  you  got  to 
do  with  this,  Tom  Turner  ?" 

"You  started  this  fight,"  said  Tom. 

24 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

"I  don't  keer  ef  I  did — take  him  off,"  Daws  an 
swered,  savagely. 

''Will  you  say  'nough  fer  him?"  said  Chad 
again,  and  again  Tall  Tom  chuckled.  The  little 
brother  clinched  his  fists  and  turned  white  with  fear 
for  Whizzer  and  fury  for  Chad,  while  Daws 
looked  at  the  tall  Turner,  shook  his  head  from  side 
to  side,  like  a  balking  steer,  and  dropped  his  eyes: 

"Y-e-s,"  he  said,  sullenly. 

"Say  it,  then,"  said  Chad,  and  this  time  Tall 
Tom  roared  aloud,  and  even  his  two  silent  brothers 
laughed.  Again  Daws,  with  a  furious  oath,  started 
for  the  dogs  with  his  club,  but  Chad's  ally  stepped 
between. 

"You  say  'nough,  Daws  Dillon,"  he  said,  and 
Daws  looked  into  the  quiet  half-smiling  face  and  at 
the  stalwart  two  grinning  behind. 

"Takin*  up  agin  yo'1  neighbors  fer  a  wood-colt, 
air  ye  ? " 

"  I'm  a-takin'  up  fer  what's  right  and  fair.  How 
do  you  know  he's  a  wood-colt — an'  suppose  he  is  ? 
You  say  'nough  now,  or " 

Again  Daws  looked  at  the  dogs.  Jack  had  taken 
a  fresh  grip  and  was  shaking  savagely  and  steadily. 
Whizzer's  tongue  was  out — once  his  throat  rattled. 

''Nough!"  growled  Daws,  angrily,  and  the 
word  was  hardly  jerked  from  his  lips  before  Chad 
was  on  his  feet  and  prying  Jack's  jaws  apart.  "  He 
ain't  much  hurt,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  bloody 

25 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM    COME 

hold  which  Jack  had  clamped  on  his  enemy's  throat, 
"  but  he'd  a-killed  him  though,  he  al'ays  does.  Thar 
ain't  no  chance  fer  no  dog,  when  Jack  gits  that 
holt." 

Then  he  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  into  the 
quivering  face  of  the  owner  of  the  dog — the  little 
fellow — who,  with  the  bellow  of  a  yearling  bull, 
sprang  at  him.  Again  Chad's  lips  took  a  straight 
red  line  and  being  on  one  knee  was  an  advantage, 
for,  as  he  sprang  up,  he  got  both  underholds  and 
there  was  a  mighty  tussle,  the  spectators  yelling 
with  frantic  delight. 

"Trip  him,  Tad,"  shouted  Daws,  fiercely. 

"Stick  to  him,  little  un,"  shouted  Tom,  and  his 
brothers,  stoical  Dolph  and  Rube,  danced  about 
madly.  Even  with  underholds,  Chad,  being  much 
the  shorter  of  the  two,  had  no  advantage  that  he 
did  net  need,  and,  with  a  sharp  thud,  the  two  fierce 
little  bodies  struck  the  road  side  by  side,  spurting 
up  a  cloud  of  dust. 

"Dawg — fall!"  cried  Rube,  and  Dolph  rushed 
forward  to  pull  the  combatants  apart. 

"He  don't  fight  fair,"  said  Chad,  panting,  and 
rubbing  his  right  eye  which  his  enemy  had  tried  to 
"gouge";. "but  lemme  at  him — I  can  fight  that- 
away,  too."  Tall  Tom  held  them  apart. 

"You're  too  little,  and  he  don't  fight  fair.  I 
re(kon  you  better  go  on  home — you  two — an'  yo' 
mtan  dawg,"  he  said  to  Daws;  and  the  two  Dil- 

26 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

Ions — the  one  sullen  and  the  other  crying  with  rage 
— moved  away  with  Whizzer  slinking  close  to  the 
ground  after  them.  But  at  the  top  of  the  hill  both 
turned  with  bantering  yells,  derisive  wriggling  of 
their  fingers  at  their  noses,  and  with  other  rude 
gestures.  And,  thereupon,  Dolph  and  Rube  wanted 
to  go  after  them,  but  the  tall  brother  stopped  them 
with  a  word. 

"That's  about  all  they're  fit  fer,"  he  said,  con 
temptuously,  and  he  turned  to  Chad. 

"Whar  you  from,  little  man,  an*  whar  you  go- 
in',  an'  what  mought  yo'  name  be  ?" 

Chad  told  his  name,  and  where  he  was  from,  and 
stopped. 

"Whar  you  goin'  ?"  said  Tom  again,  without  a 
word  or  look  of  comment. 

Chad  knew  the  disgrace  and  the  suspicion  that 
his  answer  was  likely  to  generate,  but  he  looked  his 
questioner  in  the  face  fearlessly. 

"I  don't  know  whar  I'm  goin'." 

The  big  fellow  looked  at  him  keenly,  but  kindly. 

"You  ain't  lyin'  an'  I  reckon  you  better  come 
with  us."  He  turned  for  the  first  time  to  his  broth 
ers  and  the  two  nodded. 

"You  an'  yo'  dawg,  though  Mammy  don't  like 
dawgs  much;  but  you  air  a  stranger  an*  you  ain't 
afeerd,  an'  you  can  fight — you  an*  yo'  dawg — an' 
I  know  Dad'll  take  ye  both  in." 

So  Chad  and  Jack  followed  the  long  strides  of 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM    COME 

the  three  Turners  over  the  hill  and  to  the  bend  of 
the  river,  where  were  three  long  cane  fishing-poles 
with  their  butts  stuck  in  the  mud — the  brothers  had 
been  fishing,  when  the  flying  figure  of  the  little  girl 
told  them  of  the  coming  of  a  stranger  into  those 
lonely  wilds.  Taking  these  up,  they  strode  on — 
Chad  after  them  and  Jack  trotting,  in  cheerful  con 
fidence,  behind.  It  is  probable  that  Jack  noticed, 
as  soon  as  Chad,  the  swirl  of  smoke  rising  from  a 
broad  ravine  that  spread  into  broad  fields,  skirted 
by  the  great  sweep  of  the  river,  for  he  sniffed  the 
air  sharply,  and  trotted  suddenly  ahead.  It  was  a 
cheering  sight  for  Chad.  Two  negro  slaves  were 
coming  from  work  in  a  corn-field  close  by,  and 
Jack's  hair  rose  when  he  saw  them,  and,  with  a 
growl,  he  slunk  behind  his  master.  Dazed,  Chad 
looked  at  them. 

"Whut've  them  fellers  got  on  their  faces?"  he 
asked.  Tom  laughed. 

"Hain't  you  nuver  seed  a  nigger  afore?"  he 
asked. 

Chad  shook  his  head. 

"Lots  o'  folks  from  yo*  side  o'  the  mountains 
nuver  have  seed  a  nigger,"  said  Tom.  "Sometimes 
hit  skeers  'em." 

"Hit  don't  skeer  me,"  said  Chad. 

At  the  gate  of  the  barn-yard,  in  which  was  a 
long  stable  with  a  deeply  sloping  roof,  stood  the 
old  brindle  cow,  who  turned  to  look  at  Jack,  and, 

28 


FIGHTING  THEIR  WAY 

as  Chad  followed  the  three  brothers  through  the 
yard  gate,  he  saw  a  slim  scarlet  figure  vanish 
swiftly  from  the  porch  into  the  house. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Chad  was  inside  the  big  log- 
cabin  and  before  a  big  log-fire,  with  Jack  between 
his  knees  and  turning  his  soft  human  eyes  keenly 
from  one  to  another  of  the  group  about  his  little 
master,  telling  how  the  mountain  cholera  had  car 
ried  ofF  the  man  and  the  woman  who  had  been 
father  and  mother  to  him,  and  their  children;  at 
which  the  old  mother  nodded  her  head  in  growing 
sympathy,  for  there  were  two  fresh  mounds  in  her 
own  graveyard  on  the  point  of  a  low  hill  not  far 
away;  how  old  Nathan  Cherry,  whom  he  hated, 
had  wanted  to  bind  him  out,  and  how,  rather  than 
have  Jack  mistreated  and  himself  be  ill-used,  he 
had  run  away  along  the  mountain-top;  how  he  had 
slept  one  night  under  a  log  with  Jack  to  keep  him 
warm;  how  he  had  eaten  sassafras  and  birch  back 
and  had  gotten  drink  from  the  green  water-bulbs 
of  the  wild  honeysuckle;  and  how,  on  the  second 
day,  being  hungry,  and  without  powder  for  his  gun, 
he  had  started,  when  the  sun  sank,  for  the  shad 
ows  of  the  valley  at  the  mouth  of  Kingdom  Come. 
Before  he  was  done,  the  old  mother  knocked  the 
ashes  from  her  clay  pipe  and  quietly  went  into  the 
kitchen,  and  Jack,  for  all  his  good  manners,  could 
not  restrain  a  whine  of  eagerness  when  he  heard  the 
crackle  of  bacon  in  a  frying-pan  and  the  delicious 

29 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

smell  of  it  struck  his  quivering  nostrils.  After  dark, 
old  Joel,  the  father  of  the  house,  came  in — a  giant 
in  size  and  a  mighty  hunter — and  he  slapped  his 
big  thighs  and  roared  until  the  rafters  seemed  to 
shake  when  Tall  Tom  told  him  about  the  dog-fight 
and  the  boy-fight  with  the  family  in  the  next  cove: 
for  already  the  clanship  was  forming  that  was  to 
add  the  last  horror  to  the  coming  great  war  and 
prolong  that  horror  for  nearly  half  a  century  after 
its  close. 

By  and  by,  the  scarlet  figure  of  little  Melissa 
came  shyly  out  of  the  dark  shadows  behind  and 
drew  shyly  closer  and  closer,  until  she  was  crouched 
in  the  chimney  corner  with  her  face  shaded  from 
the  fire  by  one  hand  and  a  tangle  of  yellow  hair, 
listening  and  watching  him  with  her  big,  solemn 
eyes,  quite  fearlessly.  Already  the  house  was  full 
of  children  and  dependents,  but  no  word  passed  be 
tween  old  Joel  and  the  old  mother,  for  no  word 
was  necessary.  Two  waifs  who  had  so  suffered 
and  who  could  so  fight  could  have  a  home  under 
that  roof  if  they  pleased,  forever.  And  Chad's 
sturdy  little  body  lay  deep  in  a  feather-bed,  and 
the  friendly  shadows  from  a  big  fireplace  flickered 
hardly  thrice  over  him  before  he  was  asleep.  And 
Jack,  for  that  night  at  least,  was  allowed  to  curl  up 
by  the  covered  coals,  or  stretch  out  his  tired  feet,  if 
he  pleased,  to  a  warmth  that  in  all  the  nights  of  his 
life,  perhaps,  he  had  never  known  before. 

30 


Ill 

BLAB  SCHOOL"  ON  KINGDOM  COME 

was  awakened  by  the  touch  of  a  cold 
nose  at  his  ear,  the  rasp  of  a  warm  tongue 
across  his  face,  and  the  tug  of  two  paws  at  his 
cover.  "  Git  down,  Jack ! "  he  said,  and  Jack,  with 
a  whimper  of  satisfaction,  went  back  to  the  fire  that 
was  roaring  up  the  chimney,  and  a  deep  voice 
laughed  and  called: 

"I  reckon  you  better  git  up,  little  man!" 
Old  Joel  was  seated  at  the  fire  with  his  huge  legs 
crossed  and  a  pipe  in  his  mouth.  It  was  before 
dawn,  but  the  household  was  busily  astir.  There 
was  the  sound  of  tramping  in  the  frosty  air  outside 
and  the  noise  of  getting  breakfast  ready  in  the 
kitchen.  As  Chad  sprang  up,  he  saw  Melissa's 
yellow  hair  drop  out  of  sight  behind  the  foot  of  the 
bed  in  the  next  corner,  and  he  turned  his  face 
quickly,  and,  slipping  behind  the  foot  of  his  own 
bed  and  into  his  coat  and  trousers,  was  soon  at  the 
fire  himself,  with  old  Joel  looking  him  over  with 
shrewd  kindliness. 

"Yo'  dawg's  got  a  heap  o'  sense,"  said  the  old 
hunter,  and  Chad  told  him  how  old  Jack  was,  and 

31 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

how  a  cattle-buyer  from  the  "settlements"  of  the 
Bluegrass  had  given  him  to  Chad  when  Jack  was 
badly  hurt  and  his  owner  thought  he  was  going  to 
die.  And  how  Chad  had  nursed  him  and  how  the 
two  had  always  been  together  ever  since.  Through 
the  door  of  the  kitchen,  Chad  could  see  the  old 
mother  with  her  crane  and  pots  and  cooking-pans; 
outside,  he  could  hear  the  moo  of  the  old  brindle, 
the  bleat  of  her  calf,  the  nicker  of  a  horse,  one 
lusty  sheep-call,  and  the  hungry  bellow  of  young 
cattle  at  the  barn,  where  Tall  Tom  was  feeding  the 
stock.  Presently  Rube  stamped  in  with  a  back  log 
and  Dolph  came  through  with  a  milk-pail. 

"I  can  milk,"  said  Chad,  eagerly,  and  Dolph 
laughed. 

"All  right,  I'll  give  ye  a  chance,"  he  said,  and 
old  Joel  looked  pleased,  for  it  was  plain  that  the  lit 
tle  stranger  was  not  going  to  be  a  drone  in  the 
household,  and,  taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  but 
without  turning  his  head,  he  called  out: 

"Git  up  thar,  Melissy." 

Getting  no  answer,  he  looked  around  to  find  Me 
lissa  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"Come  here  to  the  fire,  little  gal,  nobody's  a- 
goin'  to  eat  ye." 

Melissa  came  forward,  twisting  her  hands  in 
front  of  her,  and  stood,  rubbing  one  bare  foot  over 
the  other  on  the  hearth-stones.  She  turned  her  face 
with  a  blush  when  Chad  suddenly  looked  at  her, 


A  "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

and,  thereafter,  the  little  man  gazed  steadily  into 
the  fire  in  order  to  embarrass  her  no  more. 

With  the  breaking  of  light  over  the  mountain,, 
breakfast  was  over  and  the  work  of  the  day  began. 
Tom  was  off  to  help  a  neighbor  "snake"  logs  down 
the  mountain  and  into  Kingdom  Come,  where  they 
would  be  "rafted"  and  floated  on  down  the  river  to 
the  capital — if  a  summer  tide  should  come — to  be 
turned  into  fine  houses  for  the  people  of  the  Blue- 
grass.  Dolph  and  Rube  disappeared  at  old  Joel's 
order  to  "go  meet  them  sheep."  Melissa  helped 
her  mother  clear  away  the  table  and  wash  the 
dishes;  and  Chad,  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye,  saw  her 
surreptitiously  feeding  greedy  Jack,  while  old  Joel 
still  sat  by  the  fire,  smoking  silently.  Chad  stepped 
outside.  The  air  was  chill,  but  the  mists  were  ris 
ing  and  a  long  band  of  rich,  warm  light  lay  over 
a  sloping  spur  up  the  river,  and  where  this  met  the 
blue  morning  shadows,  the  dew  was  beginning  to 
drip  and  to  sparkle.  Chad  could  not  stand  inaction 
long,  and  his  eye  lighted  up  when  he  heard  a  great 
bleating  at  the  foot  of  the  spur  and  the  shouts  of 
men  and  boys.  Just  then  the  old  mother  called 
from  the  rear  of  the  cabin: 

"Joel,  them  sheep  air  comin'!" 

The  big  form  of  the  old  hunter  filled  the  door 
way  and  Jack  bounded  out  between  his  legs,  while 
little  Melissa  appeared  with  two  books,  ready  for 
school.  Down  the  road  came  the  flock  of  lean 

33 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

mountain-sheep,  Dolph  and  Rube  driving  them. 
Behind,  slouched  the  Dillon  tribe — Daws  and 
Whizzer  and  little  Tad;  Daws's  father,  old  Tad, 
long,  lean,  stooping,  crafty:  and  two  new  ones- 
cousins  to  Daws — Jake  and  Jerry,  the  giant  twins. 

"Joel  Turner,"  said  old  Tad,  sourly,  "here's 
yo'  sheep!" 

Joel  had  bought  the  Dillons'  sheep  and  meant 
to  drive  them  to  the  county-seat  ten  miles  down  the 
river.  There  had  evidently  been  a  disagreement 
between  the  two  when  the  trade  was  made,  for  Joel 
pulled  out  a  gray  pouch  of  coonskin,  took  from  it  a 
roll  of  bills,  and,  without  counting  them,  held  them 
out. 

"Tad  Dillon,"  he  said,  shortly,  "here's  yo' 
money!" 

The  Dillon  father  gave  possession  with  a  gest 
ure  and  the  Dillon  faction,  including  Whizzer  and 
the  giant  twins,  drew  aside  together — the  father 
morose;  Daws  watching  Dolph  and  Rube  with  a 
look  of  much  meanness;  little  Tad  behind  him, 
watching  Chad,  his  face  screwed  up  with  hate;  and 
Whizzer,  pretending  not  to  see  Jack,  but  darting 
a  surreptitious  glance  at  him  now  and  then,  for  then 
and  there  was  starting  a  feud  that  was  to  run  fierce 
ly  on,  long  after  the  war  was  done. 

"Git  my  hoss,  Rube,"  said  old  Joel,  and  Rube 
turned  to  the  stable,  while  Dolph  kept  an  eye  on  the 
sheep,  which  were  lying  on  the  road  or  straggling 

34 


A  "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

down  the  river.  As  Rube  opened  the  stable-door, 
a  dirty  white  object  bounded  out,  and  Rube,  with 
a  loud  curse,  tumbled  over  backward  into  the  mud, 
while  a  fierce  old  ram  dashed  with  a  triumphant 
bleat  for  the  open  gate.  Beelzebub,  as  the  Tur 
ner  mother  had  christened  the  mischievous  brute, 
had  been  placed  in  the  wrong  stall  and  Beelzebub 
was  making  for  freedom.  He  gave  another  tri 
umphant  baa  as  he  swept  between  Dolph's  legs  and 
through  the  gate,  and,  with  an  answering  chorus, 
the  silly  sheep  sprang  to  their  feet  and  followed. 
A  sheep  hates  water,  but  not  more  than  he  loves 
a  leader,  and  Beelzebub  feared  nothing.  Straight 
for  the  water  of  the  low  ford  the  old  conqueror 
made  and,  in  the  wake  of  his  masterful  summons, 
the  flock  swept,  like  a  Mormon  household,  after 
him.  Then  was  there  a  commotion  indeed.  Old 
Joel  shouted  and  swore;  Dolph  shouted  and  swore 
and  Rube  shouted  and  swore.  Old  Dillon  smiled 
grimly,  Daws  and  little  Tad  shouted  with  derisive 
laughter,  and  the  big  twins  grinned.  The  mother 
came  to  the  door,  broom  in  hand,  and,  with  a  frown 
ing  face,  watched  the  sheep  splash  through  the  wa 
ter  and  into  the  woods  across  the  river.  Little  Me 
lissa  looked  frightened.  Whizzer,  losing  his  head, 
had  run  down  after  the  sheep,  barking  and  hasten 
ing  their  flight,  until  called  back  with  a  mighty 
curse  from  old  Joel,  while  Jack  sat  on  his  haunches 
looking  at  Chad  and  waiting  for  orders. 

35 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"Goddlemighty!"  said  Joel,  "how  air  we  goin' 
to  git  them  sheep  back  ?"  Up  and  up  rose  the  bleat 
ing  and  baaing,  for  Beelzebub,  like  the  prince  of 
devils  that  he  was,  seemed  bent  on  making  all  the 
mischief  possible. 

"How  air  we  goin'  to  git  'em  back  ?" 

Chad  nodded  then,  and  Jack  with  an  eager  yelp 
made  for  the  river — Whizzer  at  his  heels.  Again 
old  Joel  yelled  furiously,  as  did  Dolph  and  Rube, 
and  Whizzer  stopped  and  turned  back  with  a 
drooping  tail,  but  Jack  plunged  in.  He  knew  but 
one  voice  behind  him  and  Chad's  was  not  in  the 
chorus. 

"Call  yo'  dawg  back,  boy,"  said  Joel,  sternly, 
and  Chad  opened  his  lips  with  anything  but  a  call 
for  Jack  to  come  back — it  was  instead  a  fine  high 
yell  of  encouragement  and  old  Joel  was  speechless. 

"That  dawg'll  kill  them  sheep,"  said  Daws  Dil 
lon  aloud. 

Joel's  face  was  red  and  his  eyes  rolled. 

"Call  that  damned  feist  back,  I  tell  ye,"  he 
shouted  at  last.  "Hyeh,  Rube,  git  my  gun,  git  my 
gun!" 

Rube  started  for  the  house,  but  Chad  laughed. 
Jack  had  reached  the  other  bank  now,  and  was 
flashing  like  a  ball  of  gray  light  through  the  weeds 
and  up  into  the  woods;  and  Chad  slipped  down  the 
bank  and  into  the  river,  hieing  him  on  excitedly. 

Joel  was  beside  himself  and  he,  too,  lumbered 

36 


A   "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

down  to  the  river,  followed  by  Dolph,  while  the 
Dillons  roared  from  the  road. 

"Boy!"  he  roared.  "Eh,  boy,  eh!  what's  his 
name,  Dolph  ?  Call  him  back,  Dolph,  call  the  lit 
tle  devil  back.  If  I  don't  wear  him  out  with  a 
hickory;  holler  fer  'em,  damn  'em!  Heh-o-oo-ee! " 
The  old  hunter's  bellow  rang  through  the  woods 
like  a  dinner-horn.  Dolph  was  shouting,  too,  but 
Jack  and  Chad  seemed  to  have  gone  stone-deaf; 
and  Rube,  who  had  run  down  with  the  gun,  started 
with  an  oath  into  the  river  himself,  but  Joel  halted 
him. 

"Hoi'  on,  hoi'  on!"  he  said,  listening.  "By  the 
eternal,  he's  a-roundin'  'em  up!"  The  sheep  were 
evidently  much  scattered,  to  judge  from  the  bleat 
ing;  but  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  they  could 
hear  Jack's  bark,  while  Chad  seemed  to  have 
stopped  in  the  woods  and,  from  one  place,  was 
shouting  orders  to  his  dog.  Plainly,  Jack  was  no 
sheep-killer  and  by  and  by  Dolph  and  Rube  left 
off  shouting,  and  old  Joel's  face  became  placid; 
and  all  of  them  from  swearing  helplessly  fell  to 
waiting  quietly.  Soon  the  bleating  became  less  and 
less,  and  began  to  concentrate  on  the  mountain-side. 
Not  far  below,  they  could  hear  Chad: 

"Coo-oo-sheep !  Coo-oo-sh'p-cooshy-cooshy-coo- 
oo-sheep!" 

The  sheep  were  answering.  They  were  coming 
down  a  ravine,  and  Chad's  voice  rang  out  above: 

37 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

"Somebody  come  across,  an'  stand  on  each  side 
o'  the  holler." 

Dolph  and  Rube  waded  across  then,  and  soon 
the  sheep  came  crowding  down  the  narrow  ravine 
with  Jack  barking  behind  them  and  Chad  shooing 
them  down.  But  for  Dolph  and  Rube,  Beelzebub 
would  have  led  them  up  or  down  the  river,  and  it 
was  hard  work  to  get  him  into  the  water  until  Jack, 
who  seemed  to  know  what  the  matter  was,  sharply 
nipped  several  sheep  near  him.  These  sprang  vio 
lently  forward,  the  whole  flock  in  front  pushed  for 
ward,  too,  and  Beelzebub  was  thrust  from  the 
bank.  Nothing  else  being  possible,  the  old  ram 
settled  himself  with  a  snort  into  the  water  and 
made  for  the  other  shore.  Chad  and  Jack  followed 
and,  when  they  reached  the  road,  Beelzebub  was 
again  a  prisoner;  the  sheep,  swollen  like  sponges, 
were  straggling  down  the  river,  and  Dillons  and 
Turners  were  standing  around  in  silence.  Jack 
shook  himself  and  dropped  panting  in  the  dust  at 
his  master's  feet,  without  so  much  as  an  upward 
glance  or  a  lift  of  his  head  for  a  pat  of  praise.  As 
old  Joel  raised  one  foot  heavily  to  his  stirrup,  he 
grunted,  quietly: 

"Well,  I  be  damned."  And  when  he  was  com 
fortably  in  his  saddle  he  said  again,  with  unction: 

"I  do  be  damned.  I'll  just  take  that  dawg  to 
help  drive  them  sheep  down  to  town.  Come  on, 
boy." 

38 


A   "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

Chad  started  joyfully,  but  the  old  mother  called 
from  the  door:  "Who's  a-goin'  to  take  this  gal  to 
school,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

Old  Joel  pulled  in  his  horse,  straightened  one 
leg,  and  looked  all  around — first  at  the  Dillons, 
who  had  started  away,  then  at  Dolph  and  Rube, 
who  were  moving  determinedly  after  the  sheep  (it 
was  Court  Day  in  town  and  they  could  not  miss 
Court  Day),  and  then  at  Chad,  who  halted. 

"  Boy,"  he  said,  "don't  you  want  to  go  to  school 
—you  ought  to  go  to  school  ? " 

"Yes/'  said  Chad,  obediently,  though  the  trip  to 
town — and  Chad  had  never  been  to  a  town — was  a 
sore  temptation. 

"Go  on,  then,  an'  tell  the  teacher  I  sent  ye. 
Here,  Mammy — eh,  what's  yo'  name,  boy  ?  Oh, 
Mammy — Chad,  here,  '11  take  her.  Take  good 
keer  o'  that  gal,  boy,  an'  learn  yo'  a-b-abs  like  a 
man  now." 

Melissa  came  shyly  forward  from  the  door  and 
Joel  whistled  to  Jack  and  called  him,  but  Jack, 
though  he  liked  nothing  better  than  to  drive  sheep, 
lay  still,  looking  at  Chad. 

"Go  'long,  Jack,"  said  Chad,  and  Jack  sprang 
up  and  was  off,  though  he  stopped  again  and  looked 
back,  and  Chad  had  to  tell  him  again  to  go  on.  In 
a  moment  dog,  men,  and  sheep  were  moving  in  a 
cloud  of  dust  around  a  bend  in  the  road  and  little 
Melissa  was  at  the  gate. 

39 


'Take  good  keer  of  'Lissy,"  said  the  mother 
from  the  porch,  kindly;  and  Chad,  curiously 
touched  all  at  once  by  the  trust  shown  him,  stalked 
ahead  like  a  little  savage,  while  Melissa  with  her 
basket  followed  silently  behind.  The  boy  never 
thought  of  taking  the  basket  himself — that  is  not 
the  way  of  men  with  women  in  the  hills — and 
not  once  did  he  look  around  or  speak  on  the 
way  up  the  river  and  past  the  blacksmith's  shop 
and  the  grist-mill  just  beyond  the  mouth  of  King 
dom  Come;  but  when  they  arrived  at  the  log 
school-house  it  was  his  turn  to  be  shy  and  he  hung 
back  to  let  Melissa  go  in  first.  Within,  there  was  no 
floor  but  the  bare  earth,  no  window  but  the  cracks 
between  the  logs,  and  no  desks  but  the  flat  sides 
of  slabs,  held  up  by  wobbling  pegs.  On  one  side 
were  girls  in  linsey  and  homespun — some  thin,  un 
dersized,  underfed,  and  with  weak,  dispirited  eyes 
and  yellow  tousled  hair;  others,  round-fa ced, 
round-eyed,  dark,  and  sturdy;  most  of  them  large- 
waisted  and  round-shouldered  —  especially  the 
older  ones — from  work  in  the  fields;  but,  now  and 
then,  one  like  Melissa,  the  daughter  of  a  valley- 
farmer,  erect,  agile,  spirited,  intelligent.  On  the 
other  side  were  the  boys,  in  physical  characteris 
tics  the  same  and  suggesting  the  same  social  di 
visions:  at  the  top  the  farmer — now  and  then  a 
slave-holder  and  perhaps  of  gentle  blood— who 
had  dropped  by  the  way  on  the  westward  march 
of  civilization  and  had  cleared  some  rich  river- 

40 


A    "BLAB    SCHOOL"   ON    KINGDOM    COME 

bottom  and  a  neighboring  summit  of  the  moun 
tains,  where  he  sent  his  sheep  and  cattle  to 
graze;  where  a  creek  opened  into  this  valley 
some  free-settler,  whose  grandfather  had  fought 
at  King's  Mountain — usually  of  Scotch-Irish  de 
scent,  often  English,  but  sometimes  German  or 
sometimes  even  Huguenot — would  have  his  rude 
home  of  logs;  under  him,  and  in  wretched  cabins 
at  the  head  of  the  creek  or  on  the  washed  spur  of 
the  mountain  above,  or  in  some  "deadenin"'  still 
higher  up  and  swept  by  mists  and  low-trailing 
clouds,  the  poor  white  trash — worthless  descend 
ants  of  the  servile  and  sometimes  criminal  class 
who  might  have  traced  their  origin  back  to  the 
slums  of  London — hand-to-mouth  tenants  of  the 
valley-aristocrat,  hewers  of  wood  for  him  in  the 
lowlands  and  upland  guardians  of  his  cattle  and 
sheep.  And  finally,  walking  up  and  down  the  earth 
floor — stern  and  smooth  of  face  and  of  a  preter 
natural  dignity  hardly  to  be  found  elsewhere — 
the  mountain  school-master. 

It  was  a  "blab  school,"  as  the  mountaineers 
characterize  a  school  in  which  the  pupils  study 
aloud,  and  the  droning  chorus — as  shrill  as  locust 
cries — ceased  suddenly  when  Chad  came  in,  and 
every  eye  was  turned  on  him  with  a  sexless  gaze 
of  curiosity  that  made  his  face  redden  and  his 
heart  throb.  But  he  forgot  them  when  the  school 
master  pierced  him  with  eyes  that  seemed  to  shoot 
from  under  his  heavy  brows  like  a  strong  light 

41 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

from  deep  darkness.  Chad  met  them,  nor  did  his 
chin  droop,  and  Caleb  Hazel  saw  that  the  boy's 
face  was  frank  and  honest,  and  that  his  eye  was 
fearless  and  kind,  and,  without  question,  he  mo 
tioned  to  a  seat — with  one  wave  of  his  hand  set 
ting  Chad  on  the  corner  of  a  slab  and  the  studious 
drone  to  vibrating  again.  When  the  boy  ventured 
to  glance  around,  he  saw  Daws  Dillon  in  one  cor 
ner,  making  a  face  at  him,  and  little  Tad  scowl 
ing  from  behind  a  book:  and  on  the  other  side, 
among  the  girls,  he  saw  another  hostile  face — next 
little  Melissa — which  had  the  pointed  chin  and 
the  narrow  eyes  of  the  "Dillon  breed,"  as  old  Joel 
called  the  family,  whose  farm  was  at  the  mouth  of 
Kingdom  Come  and  whose  boundary  touched  his 
own.  When  the  first  morning  recess  came — "little 
recess,"  as  it  was  called — the  master  kept  Chad  in 
and  asked  him  his  name;  if  he  had  ever  been  to 
school,  and  whether  he  knew  his  A  B  C's;  and  he 
showed  no  surprise  when  Chad,  without  shame, 
told  him  no.  So  the  master  got  Melissa's  spelling- 
book  and  pointed  out  the  first  seven  letters  of  the 
alphabet,  and  made  Chad  repeat  them  three  times 
— watching  the  boy's  earnest,  wrinkling  brow  close 
ly  and  with  growing  interest.  When  school  "took 
up"  again,  Chad  was  told  to  say  them  aloud  in  con 
cert  with  the  others — which  he  did,  until  he  could 
repeat  them  without  looking  at  his  book,  and  the 
master  saw  him  thus  saying  them  while  his  eyes 

42 


A   "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

roved  around  the  room,  and  he  nodded  to  himself 
with  satisfaction — for  he  was  accustomed  to  vis 
ible  communion  with  himself,  in  school  and  out. 
At  noon — "big  recess" — Melissa  gave  Chad  some 
corn-bread  and  bacon,  and  the  boys  gathered 
around  him,  while  the  girls  looked  at  him  curiously, 
merely  because  he  was  a  stranger,  and  some  of  them 
— especially  the  Dillon  girl — whispered,  and  Chad 
blushed  and  was  uncomfortable,  for  once  the  Dillon 
girl  laughed  unkindly.  The  boys  had  no  games, 
but  they  jumped  and  threw  "rocks"  with  great  ac 
curacy  at  a  little  birch-tree,  and  Daws  and  Tad 
always  spat  on  their  stones  and  pointed  with  the 
forefinger  of  the  left  hand  first  at  what  they  were 
going  to  throw  at,  while  Chad  sat  to  one  side  and 
took  no  part,  though  he  longed  to  show  them  what 
he  could  do.  By  and  by  they  fell  to  wrestling,  and 
finally  Tad  bantered  him  for  a  trial.  Chad  hesi 
tated,  and  his  late  enemy  misunderstood. 

"I'll  give  ye  both  underholts  agin,"  he  said, 
loftily,  "you're  afeerd!" 

This  was  too  much,  and  Chad  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  grappled,  disdaining  the  proffered  advantage, 
and  got  hurled  to  the  ground,  his  head  striking 
the  earth  violently,  and  making  him  so  dizzy  that 
the  brave  smile  with  which  he  took  his  fall  looked 
rather  sickly  and  pathetic. 

"Yes,  an'  Whizzer  can  whoop  yo'  dawg,  too," 
said  Tad,  and  Chad  saw  that  he  was  going  to  have 

43 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

trouble  with  those  Dillons,  for  Daws  winked  at  the 
other  boys,  and  the  Dillon  girl  laughed  again 
scornfully — at  which  Chad  saw  Melissa's  eyes  flash 
and  her  hands  clinch  as,  quite  unconsciously,  she 
moved  toward  him  to  take  his  part;  and  all  at  once 
he  was  glad  that  he  had  nobody  else  to  champion 
him. 

"You  wouldn*  dare  tech  him  if  one  of  my 
brothers  was  here,"  she  said,  indignantly,  "an' 
don't  you  dare  tech  him  again,  Tad  Dillon.  An 
you —  '  she  said,  witheringly,  "you —  '  she  re 
peated  and  stopped  helpless  for  the  want  of  words, 
but  her  eyes  spoke  with  the  fierce  authority  of  the 
Turner  clan,  and  its  dominant  power  for  half  a 
century,  and  Nancy  Dillon  shrank,  though  she 
turned  and  made  a  spiteful  face,  when  Melissa 
walked  toward  the  school-house  alone. 

That  afternoon  was  the  longest  of  Chad's  life 
— it  seemed  as  though  it  would  never  come  to  an 
end;  for  Chad  had  never  sat  so  still  for  so  long. 
His  throat  got  dry  repeating  the  dreary  round  of 
letters  over  and  over  and  his  head  ached  and  he 
fidgeted  in  his  chair  while  the  slow  hours  passed 
and  the  sun  went  down  behind  the  mountain  and 
left  the  school-house  in  rapidly  cooling  shadow. 
His  heart  leaped  when  the  last  class  was  heard  and 
the  signal  was  given  that  meant  freedom  for  the 
ittle  prisoners;  but  Melissa  sat  pouting  in  her 
^eat—she  had  missed  her  lesson  and  must  be  kept 

44 


A   "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

in  for  a  while.  So  Chad,  too,  kept  his  seat  and 
the  master  heard  him  say  his  letters,  without  the 
book,  and  nodded  his  head  as  though  to  say  to 
himself  that  such  quickness  was  exactly  what  he 
had  looked  for.  By  the  time  Chad  had  learned 
down  to  the  letter  O,  Melissa  was  ready,  for  she 
was  quick,  too,  and  it  was  her  anger  that  made  her 
miss — and  the  two  started  home,  Chad  stalking 
ahead  once  more.  To  save  him,  he  could  not  say 
a  word  of  thanks,  but  how  he  wished  that  a  bear 
or  a  wild-cat  would  spring  into  the  road!  He 
would  fight  it  with  teeth  and  naked  hands  to 
show  her  how  he  felt  and  to  save  her  from 
harm. 

The  sunlight  still  lay  warm  and  yellow  far  under 
the  crest  of  Pine  Mountain,  and  they  had  not  gone 
far  when  Caleb  Hazel  overtook  them  and  with 
long  strides  forged  ahead.  The  school-master 
"boarded  around"  and  it  was  his  week  with  the 
Turners,  and  Chad  was  glad,  for  he  already  loved 
the  tall,  gaunt,  awkward  man  who  asked  him 
question  after  question  so  kindly — loved  him  as 
much  as  he  revered  and  feared  him — and  the 
boy's  artless,  sturdy  answers  in  turn  pleased  Caleb 
Hazel.  And  when  Chad  told  who  had  given 
him  Jack,  the  master  began  to  talk  about  the  far 
away,  curious  country  of  which  the  cattle-dealer 
had  told  Chad  so  much:  where  the  land  was  level 
and  there  were  no  mountains  at  all;  where  on  one 

45 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

farm  might  be  more  sheep,  cattle,  and  slaves 
than  Chad  had  seen  in  all  his  life;  where  the  peo 
ple  lived  in  big  houses  of  stone  and  brick — what 
brick  was  Chad  could  not  imagine — and  rode 
along  hard,  white  roads  in  shiny  covered  wagons, 
with  two  "niggers"  on  a  high  seat  in  front  and  one 
little  "nigger"  behind  to  open  gates,  and  were  proud 
and  very  high-heeled  indeed;  where  there  were 
towns  that  had  more  people  than  a  whole  county 
in  the  mountains,  with  rock  roads  running  through 
them  in  every  direction  and  narrow  rock  paths 
along  these  roads — like  rows  of  hearth-stones — for 
the  people  to  walk  on — the  land  of  the  bluegrass 
—the  "settlemints  of  old  Kaintuck." 

And  there  were  churches  everywhere  as  tall  as 
trees  and  school-houses  a-plenty;  and  big  schools, 
called  colleges,  to  which  the  boys  went  when  they 
were  through  with  the  little  schools.  The  master 
had  gone  to  one  of  these  colleges  for  a  year,  and  he 
was  trying  to  make  enough  money  to  go  again. 
And  Chad  must  go  some  day,  too;  there  was  no 
reason  why  he  shouldn't,  since  any  boy  could  do 
anything  he  pleased  if  he  only  made  up  his  mind 
and  worked  hard  and  never  gave  up.  The  master 
was  an  orphan,  too,  he  said  with  a  slow  smile;  he 
had  been  an  orphan  for  a  long  while,  and  indeed 
the  lonely  struggle  of  his  own  boyhood  was  what 
was  helping  to  draw  him  to  Chad.  This  college, 
he  said,  was  a  huge  brown  house  as  big  as  a  cliff 

46 


A   "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

that  the  master  pointed  out,  that,  gray  and  sol 
emn,  towered  high  above  the  river;  and  with  a 
rock  porch  bigger  than  a  great  bowlder  that  hung 
just  under  the  cliff,  with  twenty  long,  long  stone 
steps  to  climb  before  one  came  to  the  big  double 
front  door. 

"How  do  you  git  thar  ?"  Chad  asked  so  breath 
lessly  that  Melissa  looked  quickly  up  with  a  sud 
den  foreboding  that  she  might  lose  her  little  play 
fellow  some  day.  The  master  had  walked,  and  it 
took  him  a  week.  A  good  horse  could  make  the  trip 
in  four  days,  and  the  river-men  floated  logs  down 
the  river  to  the  capital  in  eight  or  ten  days,  ac 
cording  to  the  "tide."  "When  did  they  go?  In 
the  spring,  when  the  'tides'  came.  The  Turners 
went  down,  didn't  they,  Melissa?"  And  Melissa 
said  that  her  brother  Tom  had  made  one  trip,  and 
that  Dolph  and  Rube  were  "might'  nigh  crazy" 
to  go  that  coming  spring;  and,  thereupon,  a  mighty 
resolution  filled  Chad's  heart  to  the  brim  and 
steadied  his  eyes,  but  he  did  not  open  his  lips 
then. 

Dusk  was  settling  when  the  Turner  cabin  came 
in  sight.  None  of  the  men-folks  had  come  home 
yet,  and  the  mother  was  worried;  there  was  wood 
to  cut  and  the  cows  to  milk,  and  Chad's  friend, 
old  Betsey  the  brindle,  had  strayed  off  again;  but 
she  was  glad  to  see  Caleb  Hazel,  who,  without  a 
word,  went  out  to  the  wood-pile,  took  off  his  coat, 

47 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

and  swung  the  axe  with  mighty  arms,  while  Chad 
carried  in  the  wood  and  piled  it  in  the  kitchen; 
and  then  the  two  went  after  the  old  brindle  to 
gether. 

When  they  got  back  there  was  a  great  tumult  at 
the  cabin.  Tom  had  brought  some  friends  from 
over  the  mountain,  and  had  told  the  neighbors  as 
he  came  along  that  there  was  going  to  be  a  party 
at  his  house  that  night. 

So  there  was  a  great  bustle  about  the  barn  where 
Rube  was  getting  the  stock  fed  and  the  milking 
done;  and  around  the  kitchen,  where  Dolph  was 
cutting  more  wood  and  piling  it  up  at  the  door. 
Inside,  the  mother  was  hurrying  up  supper  with 
Sintha,  an  older  daughter,  who  had  just  come  home 
from  a  visit,  and  Melissa  helping  her,  while  old 
Joel  sat  by  the  fire  in  the  sleeping-room  and 
smoked,  with  Jack  lying  on  the  hearth,  or  any 
where  he  pleased,  for  Jack,  with  his  gentle  ways, 
was  winning  the  household  one  by  one.  He 
sprang  up  when  he  heard  Chad's  voice,  and  flew  at 
him,  jumping  up  and  pawing  him  affectionately  and 
licking  his  face  while  Chad  hugged  him  and  talked 
to  him  as  though  he  were  human  and  a  brother; 
never  before  had  the  two  been  separated  for  a  day. 
So,  while  the  master  helped  Rube  at  the  barn  and 
Chad  helped  Dolph  at  the  wood-pile,  Jack  hung 
about  his  master — tired  and  hungry  as  he  was  and 
much  as  he  wanted  to  be  by  the  fire  or  waiting  in 


A  "BLAB   SCHOOL"    ON    KINGDOM   COME 

the  kitchen  for  a  sly  bit  from  Melissa,  whom  he 
knew  at  once  as  the  best  of  his  new  friends. 

After  supper,  Dolph  got  out  his  banjo  and  played 
"  Shady  Grove,"  and  "  Blind  Coon  Dog,"  and  "  Sug 
ar  Hill,"  and  "Gamblin'  Man,"  while  Chad's  eyes 
glistened  and  his  feet  shuffled  under  his  chair.  And 
when  Dolph  put  the  rude  thing  down  on  the  bed 
and  went  into  the  kitchen,  Chad  edged  toward  it 
and,  while  old  Joel  was  bragging  about  Jack  to  the 
school-master,  he  took  hold  of  it  with  trembling 
fingers  and  touched  the  strings  timidly.  Then  he 
looked  around  cautiously:  nobody  was  paying  any 
attention  to  him  and  he  took  it  up  into  his  lap  and 
began  to  pick,  ever  so  softly.  Nobody  saw  him 
but  Melissa,  who  slipped  quietly  to  the  back  of 
the  room  and  drew  near  him.  Softly  and  swiftly 
Chad's  fingers  worked  and  Melissa  could  scarcely 
hear  the  sound  of  the  banjo  under  her  father's  loud 
voice,  but  she  could  make  out  that  he  was  playing 
a  tune  that  still  vibrates  unceasingly  from  the 
Pennsylvania  border  to  the  pine-covered  hills  of 
Georgia — "Sourwood  Mountain."  Melissa  held 
her  breath  while  she  listened — Dolph  could  not 
play  like  that — and  by  and  by  she  slipped  quietly 
to  her  father  and  pulled  his  sleeve  and  pointed  to 
Chad.  Old  Joel  stopped  talking,  but  Chad  never 
noticed;  his  head  was  bent  over  the  neck  of  the 
banjo,  his  body  was  swaying  rhythmically,  his 
chubby  fingers  were  going  like  lightning,  and  his 

49 


THE   LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

eyes  were  closed — the  boy  was  fairly  lost  to  the 
world.  The  tune  came  out  in  the  sudden  silence, 
clean-cut  and  swinging: 

Heh-o-dee-um-dee-eedle-dahdee-deel 

rang  the  strings  and  old  Joel's  eyes  danced. 

"Sing  it,  boy!  "he  roared,  "sing  it!"  And  Chad 
sprang  from  the  bed,  on  fire  with  confusion  and 
twisting  his  fingers  helplessly.  He  looked  almost 
frightened  when  Dolph  ran  back  into  the  room  and 
cried : 

"Who  was  that  a-pickin'  that  banjer  ?" 

It  was  not  often  that  Dolph  showed  such  excite 
ment,  but  he  had  good  cause,  and,  when  he  saw 
Chad  standing,  shamefaced  and  bashful,  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  and  Melissa  joyously  pointing 
her  finger  at  him,  he  caught  up  the  banjo  from  the 
bed  and  put  it  into  the  boy's  hands.  "Here,  you 
just  play  that  tune  agin!" 

Chad  shrank  back,  half  distressed  and  half 
happy,  and  only  a  hail  outside  from  the  first  of  the 
coming  guests  saved  him  from  utter  confusion. 
Once  started,  they  came  swiftly,  and  in  half  an 
hour  all  were  there.  Each  got  a  hearty  welcome 
from  old  Joel,  who,  with  a  wink  and  a  laugh  and 
a  nod  to  the  old  mother,  gave  a  hearty  squeeze  to 
some  buxom  girl,  while  the  fire  roared  a  heartier 
welcome  still.  Then  was  there  a  dance  indeed— 
no  soft  swish  of  lace  and  muslin,  but  the  active 

5° 


A   "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

swing  of  linsey  and  simple  homespun;  no  French 
fiddler's  bows  and  scrapings,  no  intricate  lancers, 
no  languid  waltz;  but  neat  shuffling  forward  and 
back,  with  every  note  of  the  music  beat;  floor- 
thumping  "cuttings  of  the  pigeon's  wing,"  and 
jolly  jigs,  two  by  two,  and  a  great  "swinging  of  cor 
ners,"  and  "caging  the  bird,"  and  "fust  lady  to  the 
right  cheat  an'  swing";  no  flirting  from  behind  fans 
and  under  stairways  and  little  nooks,  but  honest, 
open  courtship — strong  arms  about  healthy  waists, 
and  a  kiss  taken  now  and  then,  with  everybody  to 
see  and  nobody  to  care  who  saw.  If  a  chair  was 
lacking,  a  pair  of  brawny  knees  made  one  chair 
serve  for  two,  but  never,  if  you  please,  for  two  men. 
Rude,  rough,  semi-barbarous,  if  you  will,  but  sim 
ple,  natural,  honest,  sane,  earthy — and  of  the  earth 
whence  springs  the  oak  and  in  time,  maybe,  the 
flower  of  civilization. 

At  the  first  pause  in  the  dance,  old  Joel  called 
loudly  for  Chad.  The  boy  tried  to  slip  out  of 
the  door,  but  Dolph  seized  him  and  pulled  him 
to  a  chair  in  the  corner  and  put  the  banjo  in 
his  hands.  Everybody  looked  on  with  curiosity 
at  first,  and  for  a  little  while  Chad  suffered;  but 
when  the  dance  turned  attention  from  him,  he 
forgot  himself  again  and  made  the  old  thing  hum 
with  all  the  rousing  tunes  that  had  ever  swept  its 
string.  When  he  stopped  at  last,  to  wipe  the  per 
spiration  from  his  face,  he  noticed  for  the  first  time 

51 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

the  school-master,  who  was  yet  divided  between  the 
church  and  the  law,  standing  at  the  door — silent, 
grave,  disapproving.  And  he  was  not  alone  in  his 
condemnation;  in  many  a  cabin  up  and  down  the 
river,  stern  talk  was  going  on  against  the  ungodly 
"carryings  on"  under  the  Turner  roof,  and,  far 
from  accepting  them  as  proofs  of  a  better  birth 
and  broader  social  ideas,  these  Calvinists  of  the 
hills  set  the  merry-makers  down  as  the  special  prey 
of  the  devil,  and  the  dance  and  the  banjo  as  sly 
plots  of  the  same  to  draw  their  souls  to  hell. 

Chad  felt  the  master's  look,  and  he  did  not  be 
gin  playing  again,  but  put  the  banjo  down  by  his 
chair  and  the  dance  came  to  an  end.  Once  more 
Chad  saw  the  master  look,  this  time  at  Sintha,  who 
was  leaning  against  the  wall  with  a  sturdy  youth 
in  a  fringed  hunting-shirt  bending  over  her — his 
elbow  against  a  log  directly  over  her  shoulder. 
Sintha  saw  the  look,  too,  and  she  answered  with  a 
little  toss  of  her  head,  but  when  Caleb  Hazel  turned 
to  go  out  the  door,  Chad  saw  that  the  girl's  eyes 
followed  him.  A  little  later,  Chad  went  out  too, 
and  found  the  master  at  the  corner  of  the  fence  and 
looking  at  a  low  red  star  whose  rich,  peaceful  light 
came  through  a  gap  in  the  hills.  Chad  shyly  drew 
near  him,  hoping  in  some  way  to  get  a  kindly  word, 
but  the  master  was  so  absorbed  that  he  did  not  see 
or  hear  the  boy  and  Chad,  awed  by  the  stern,  sol 
emn  face,  withdrew  and,  without  a  word  to  any- 

52 


A   "BLAB   SCHOOL"   ON   KINGDOM   COME 

body,  climbed  into  the  loft  and  went  to  bed.  He 
could  hear  every  stroke  on  the  floor  below,  every 
call  of  the  prompter,  and  the  rude  laughter  and 
banter,  but  he  gave  little  heed  to  it  all.  For  he 
lay  thinking  of  Caleb  Hazel  and  listening  again  to 
the  stories  he  and  the  cattle-dealer  had  told  him 
about  the  wonderful  settlements.  "God's  Country," 
the  dealer  always  called  it,  and  such  it  must  be, 
if  what  he  and  the  master  said  was  true.  By  and 
by  the  steady  beat  of  feet  under  him,  the  swift 
notes  of  the  banjo,  the  calls  of  the  prompter  and 
the  laughter  fused,  became  inarticulate,  distant — 
ceased.  And  Chad,  as  he  was  wont  to  do,  jour 
neyed  on  to  "God's  Country"  in  his  dreams. 


S3 


IV 

THE    COMING    OF  THE   TIDB 

WHILE  the  corn  grew,  school  went  on  and, 
like  the  corn,  Chad's  schooling  put  forth 
leaves  and  bore  fruit  rapidly.  The  boy's  mind  was 
as  clear  as  his  eye  and,  like  a  mountain-pool,  gave 
back  every  image  that  passed  before  it.  Not  a 
word  dropped  from  the  master's  lips  that  he  failed 
to  hear  and  couldn't  repeat,  and,  in  a  month,  he 
had  put  Dolph  and  Rube,  who,  big  as  they  were, 
had  little  more  than  learned  the  alphabet,  to  open 
shame;  and  he  won  immunity  with  his  fists  from 
gibe  and  insult  from  every  boy  within  his  inches 
in  school — including  Tad  Dillon,  who  came  in 
time  to  know  that  it  was  good  to  let  the  boy  alone. 
He  worked  like  a  little  slave  about  the  house,  and, 
like  Jack,  won  his  way  into  the  hearts  of  old  Joel 
and  his  wife,  and  even  of  Dolph  and  Rube,  in 
spite  of  their  soreness  over  Chad's  having  spelled 
them  both  down  before  the  whole  school.  As  for 
Tall  Tom,  he  took  as  much  pride  as  the  school 
master  in  the  boy,  and  in  town,  at  the  grist-mill, 
the  cross-roads,  or  blacksmith  shop,  never  failed 
to  tell  the  story  of  the  dog  and  the  boy,  whenever 

54 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  TIDE 

there  was  a  soul  to  listen.  And  as  for  Melissa, 
while  she  ruled  him  like  a  queen  and  Chad  paid 
sturdy  and  uncomplaining  homage,  she  would  have 
scratched  out  the  eyes  of  one  of  her  own  brothers 
had  he  dared  to  lay  a  finger  on  the  boy.  For  Chad 
had  God's  own  gift — to  win  love  from  all  but  ene 
mies  and  nothing  but  respect  and  fear  from  them. 
Every  morning,  soon  after  daybreak,  he  stalked 
ahead  of  the  little  girl  to  school,  with  Dolph  and 
Rube  lounging  along  behind,  and,  an  hour  before 
sunset,  stalked  back  in  the  same  way  home  again. 
When  not  at  school,  the  two  fished  and  played  to 
gether — inseparable. 

Corn  was  ripe  now,  and  school  closed  and  Chad 
went  with  the  men  into  the  fields  and  did  his  part, 
stripping  the  gray  blades  from  the  yellow  stalks, 
binding  them  into  sheaves,  stowing  them  away 
under  the  low  roof  of  the  big  barn,  or  stacking 
them  tent-like  in  the  fields  —  leaving  each  ear 
perched  like  a  big  roosting  bird  on  each  lone  stalk. 
And  when  the  autumn  came,  there  were  husking 
parties  and  dances  and  much  merriment;  and,  night 
after  night,  Chad  saw  Sintha  and  the  school-master 
in  front  of  the  fire — "settin'  up" — close  together 
with  their  arms  about  each  other's  necks  and  whis 
pering.  And  there  were  quilting  parties  and  house- 
warmings  and  house-raisings — one  that  was  of 
great  importance  to  Caleb  Hazel  and  to  Chad. 
For,  one  morning,  Sintha  disappeared  and  came 

55 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

back  with  the  tall  young  hunter  in  the  deerskin  leg 
gings — blushing  furiously — a  bride.  At  once  old 
Joel  gave  them  some  cleared  land  at  the  head  of 
a  creek;  the  neighbors  came  in  to  build  them  a 
cabin,  and  among  them  all,  none  worked  harder 
than  the  school-master;  and  no  one  but  Chad 
guessed  how  sorely  hit  he  was. 

Meanwhile,  the  woods  high  and  low  were  ring 
ing  with  the  mellow  echoes  of  axes,  and  the  thun 
dering  crash  of  big  trees  along  the  mountain-side; 
for  already  the  hillsmen  were  felling  trees  while 
the  sap  was  in  the  roots,  so  that  they  could  lie  all 
winter,  dry  better  and  float  better  in  the  spring, 
when  the  rafts  were  taken  down  the  river  to  the  lit 
tle  capital  in  the  Bluegrass.  And  Caleb  Hazel  said 
that  he  would  go  down  on  a  raft  in  the  spring  and 
perhaps  Chad  could  go  with  him — who  knew  ? 
For  the  school-master  had  now  made  up  his  mind 
finally — he  would  go  out  into  the  world  and  make 
his  way  out  there;  and  nobody  but  Chad  noticed 
that  his  decision  came  only  after,  and  only  a  little 
while  after,  the  house-raising  at  the  head  of  the 
creek. 

When  winter  came,  school  opened  again,  and 
on  Saturdays  and  Sundays  and  cold  snowy  nights, 
Chad  and  the  school-master — for  he  too  lived  at 
the  Turners'  now — sat  before  the  fire  in  the 
kitchen,  and  the  school-master  read  to  him  from 
"Ivanhoe"  and  "The  Talisman,"  which  he  had 

56 


^SdbdVCD 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  TIDE 

brought  from  the  Bluegrass,  and  from  the  Bible 
which  had  been  his  own  since  he  was  a  child. 
And  the  boy  drank  in  the  tales  until  he  was  drunk 
with  them  and  learned  the  conscious  scorn  of  a  lie, 
the  conscious  love  of  truth  and  pride  in  courage, 
and  the  conscious  reverence  for  women  that  make 
the  essence  of  chivalry  as  distinguished  from  the 
unthinking  code  of  brave,  simple  people.  He 
adopted  the  master's  dignified  phraseology  as  best 
he  could;  he  watched  him,  as  the  master  stood  be 
fore  the  fire  with  his  hands  under  his  coat-tails, 
his  chin  raised,  and  his  eyes  dreamily  upward,  and 
Tall  Tom  caught  the  boy  in  just  this  attitude  one 
day  and  made  fun  of  him  before  all  the  others. 
He  tried  some  high-sounding  phrases  on  Melissa, 
and  Melissa  told  him  he  must  be  crazy.  Once, 
even,  he  tried  to  kiss  her  hand  gallantly  and  she 
slapped  his  face.  Undaunted,  he  made  a  lance 
of  white  ash,  threaded  some  loose  yarn  into  Me 
lissa's  colors,  as  he  told  himself,  sneaked  into 
the  barn,  where  Beelzebub  was  tied,  got  on  the 
sheep's  back  and,  as  the  old  ram  sprang  forward, 
couched  his  lance  at  the  trough  and  shattered  it 
with  a  thrill  that  left  him  trembling  for  half  an 
hour.  It  was  too  good  to  give  up  that  secret 
joust  and  he  made  another  lance  and  essayed  an 
other  tournament,  but  this  time  Beelzebub  butted 
the  door  open  and  sprang  with  a  loud  ba-a-a  into 
the  yard  and  charged  for  the  gate — in  full  view 

57 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

of  old  Joel,  the  three  brothers,  and  the  school 
master,  who  were  standing  in  the  road.  Instinc 
tively,  Chad  swung  on  in  spite  of  the  roar  of 
laughter  and  astonishment  that  greeted  him  and, 
as  Tom  banged  the  gate,  the  ram  swerved  and 
Chad  shot  off  sidewise  as  from  a  catapult  and 
dropped,  a  most  unheroic  little  knight,  in  the  mire. 
That  ended  Chad's  chivalry  in  the  hills,  for  in  the 
roars  of  laughter  that  greeted  him,  Chad  recog 
nized  Caleb  Hazel's  as  the  loudest.  If  he  laughed, 
chivalry  could  never  thrive  there,  and  Chad  gave 
it  up;  but  the  seeds  were  sown. 

The  winter  passed,  and  what  a  time  Chad  and 
Jack  had,  snaking  logs  out  of  the  mountains  with 
two,  four,  six — yes,  even  eight  yoke  of  oxen,  when 
the  log  was  the  heart  of  a  monarch  oak  or  poplar 
— snaking  them  to  the  chute;  watching  them  roll 
and  whirl  and  leap  like  jack-straws  from  end  to 
end  down  the  steep  incline  and,  with  one  last  shoot 
in  the  air,  roll,  shaking,  quivering,  into  a  mighty 
heap  on  the  bank  of  Kingdom  Come.  And  then 
the  "rafting"  of  those  logs — dragging  them  into 
the  pool  of  the  creek,  lashing  them  together  with 
saplings  driven  to  the  logs  with  wooden  pins  in 
auger-holes — wading  about,  meanwhile,  waist  deep 
in  the  cold  water:  and  the  final  lashing  of  the  raft 
to  a  near-by  tree  with  a  grape-vine  cable — t©  await 
the  coming  of  a  "tide." 

58 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Would  that  tide  never  come  ?  It  seemed  not. 
The  spring  ploughing  was  over,  the  corn  planted; 
there  had  been  rain  after  rain,  but  gentle  rains 
only.  There  had  been  prayers  for  rain: 

"O  Lord,"  said  the  circuit-rider,  "we  do  not 
presume  to  dictate  to  Thee,  but  we  need  rain,  an* 
need  it  mighty  bad.  We  do  not  presume  to  dic 
tate,  but,  if  it  pleases  Thee,  send  us,  not  a  gentle 
sizzle-sozzle,  but  a  sod-soaker,  O  Lord,  a  gully- 
washer.  Give  us  a  tide,  O  Lord!"  Sunrise 
and  sunset,  old  Joel  turned  his  eye  to  the  east 
and  the  west  and  shook  his  head.  Tall  Tom  did 
the  same,  and  Dolph  and  Rube  studied  the  heav 
ens  for  a  sign.  The  school-master  grew  visibly 
impatient  and  Chad  was  in  a  fever  of  restless  ex 
pectancy.  The  old  mother  had  made  him  a  suit  of 
clothes — mountain-clothes- — for  the  trip.  Old  Joel 
gave  him  a  five-dollar  bill  for  his  winter's  work. 
Even  Jack  seemed  to  know  that  something  unusual 
was  on  hand  and  hung  closer  about  the  house,  for 
fear  he  might  be  left  behind. 

Softly  at  last,  one  night,  came  the  patter  of  lit 
tle  feet  on  the  roof  and  passed — came  again  and 
paused;  and  then  there  was  a  rush  and  a  steady 
roar  that  wakened  Chad  and  thrilled  him  as  he 
lay  listening.  It  did  not  last  long,  but  the  river 
was  muddy  enough  and  high  enough  for  the  Tur 
ner  brothers  to  float  the  raft  slowly  out  from  the 
mouth  of  Kingdom  Come  and  down  in  front  of  the 

59 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

house,  where  it  was  anchored  to  a  huge  sycamore 
in  plain  sight.  At  noon  the  clouds  gathered  and 
old  Joel  gave  up  his  trip  to  town. 

"Hit'll  begin  in  about  an  hour,  boys,"  he  said, 
and  in  an  hour  it  did  begin.  There  was  to  be  no 
doubt  about  this  flood.  At  dusk,  the  river  had 
risen  two  feet  and  the  raft  was  pulling  at  its  cable 
like  an  awakening  sea-monster.  Meanwhile,  the 
mother  had  cooked  a  great  pone  of  corn-bread, 
three  feet  in  diameter,  and  had  ground  coffee  and 
got  sides  of  bacon  ready.  All  night  it  poured  and 
the  dawn  came  clear,  only  to  darken  into  gray 
again.  But  the  river — the  river!  The  roar  of  it 
filled  the  woods.  The  frothing  hem  of  it  swished 
through  the  tops  of  the  trees  and  through  the 
underbrush,  high  on  the  mountain-side.  Arched 
slightly  in  the  middle,  for  the  river  was  still  ris 
ing,  it  leaped  and  surged,  tossing  tawny  mane  and 
fleck  and  foam  as  it  thundered  along — a  mad, 
molten  mass  of  yellow  struck  into  gold  by  the 
light  of  the  sun.  And  there  the  raft,  no  longer 
the  awkward  monster  it  was  the  day  before,  floated 
like  a  lily-pad,  straining  at  the  cable  as  lightly  as 
a  greyhound  leaping  against  its  leash. 

The  neighbors  were  gathered  to  watch  the  de 
parture — old  Jerry  Budd,  blacksmith  and  "yarb 
doctor,"  and  his  folks;  the  Cultons  and  Middle- 
tons,  and  even  the  Dillons — little  Tad  and  Whiz- 
zer — and  all.  And  a  bright  picture  of  Arcadia 

60 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  TIDE 

the  simple  folk  made,  the  men  in  homespun  and 
the  women  with  their  brilliant  shawls,  as  they 
stood  on  the  bank  laughing,  calling  to  one  an 
other,  and  jesting  like  children.  All  were  aboard 
now  and  there  was  no  kissing  nor  shaking  hands 
in  the  farewell.  The  good  old  mother  stood  on 
the  bank,  with  Melissa  holding  to  her  apron  and 
looking  at  Chad  gravely. 

"Take  good  keer  o'  yo'self,  Chad,"  she  said 
kindly,  and  then  she  looked  down  at  the  little  girl. 
"He's  a-comin'  back,  honey  —  Chad's  a-comin* 
back."  And  Chad  nodded  brightly,  but  Melissa 
drew  her  apron  across  her  mouth,  dropped  her 
eyes  to  the  old  rifle  in  the  boy's  lap,  and  did  not 
smile. 

All  were  aboard  now — Dolph  and  Rube,  old 
Squire  Middleton,  and  the  school-master,  all  ex 
cept  Tall  Tom,  who  stood  by  the  tree  to  unwind 
the  cable. 

"Hold  on!"  shouted  the  Squire. 

A  raft  shot  suddenly  around  the  bend  above 
them  and  swept  past  with  the  Dillon  brothers, 
Jake  and  Jerry,  nephews  of  old  Tad  Dillon,  at 
bow  and  stern — passed  with  a  sullen  wave  from 
Jerry  and  a  good-natured  smile  from  stupid  Jake. 

"All  right,"  Tom  shouted,  and  he  unwound  the 
great  brown  pliant  vine  from  the  sycamore  and 
leaped  aboard.  Just  then  there  was  a  mad  howl 
behind  the  house  and  a  gray  streak  of  light 

61 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

flashed  over  the  bank  and  Jack,  with  a  wisp  of 
rope  around  his  neck,  sprang  through  the  air  from 
a  rock  ten  feet  high  and  landed  lightly  on  the  last 
log  as  the  raft  shot  forward.  Chad  gulped  once 
and  his  heart  leaped  with  joy,  for  he  had  agreed 
to  leave  Jack  with  old  Joel,  and  old  Joel  had  tied 
the  dog  in  the  barn. 

"Hi  there!"  shouted  the  old  hunter.  "Throw 
that  dawg  off,  Chad — throw  him  off." 

But  Chad  shook  his  head  and  smiled. 

"He  won't  go  back,"  he  shouted,  and,  indeed, 
there  was  Jack  squatted  on  his  haunches  close  by 
his  little  master  and  looking  gravely  back  as 
though  he  were  looking  a  last  good-by. 

"Hi!"  shouted  old  Joel  again.  "How  am  I 
goin'  to  git  along  without  that  dawg  ?  Throw 
him  off,  boy — throw  him  off,  I  tell  ye!"  Chad 
seized  the  dog  by  the  shoulders,  but  Jack  braced 
himself  and,  like  a  child,  looked  up  in  his  master's 
face.  Chad  let  go  and  shook  his  head. 

A  frantic  yell  from  Tall  Tom  at  the  bow  oar 
drew  every  eye  to  him.  The  current  was  stronger 
than  anyone  guessed  and  the  raft  was  being  swept 
by  an  eddy  straight  for  the  point  of  the  opposite 
shore  where  there  was  a  sharp  turn  in  the  river. 

"Watch  out  thar,"  shouted  old  Joel,  "you're 
goin'  to  'bow'!"  Dolph  and  Rube  were  slashing 
the  stern  oar  forward  and  back  through  the  swift 
water,  but  straight  the  huge  craft  made  for  that 

62 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  TIDE 

deadly  point.  Every  man  had  hold  of  an  oar  and 
was  tussling  in  silence  for  life.  Every  man  on 
shore  was  yelling  directions  and  warning,  while 
the  women  shrank  back  with  frightened  faces. 
Chad  scarcely  knew  what  the  matter  was,  but  he 
gripped  his  rifle  and  squeezed  Jack  closer  to  him. 
He  heard  Tom  roar  a  last  warning  as  the  craft 
struck)  quivered  a  moment,  and  the  stern  swept 
around.  The  craft  had  "bowed." 

''Watch  out — jump,  boys,  jump!  Watch  when 
she  humps!  Watch  yo'  legs!"  These  were  the 
cries  from  the  shore,  and  still  Chad  did  not  under 
stand.  He  saw  Tom  leap  from  the  bow,  and,  as 
the  stern  swung  to  the  other  shore,  Dolph,  too, 
leaped.  Then  the  stern  struck.  The  raft  humped 
in  the  middle  like  a  bucking  horse — the  logs  ground 
savagely  together.  Chad  heard  a  cry  of  pain  from 
Jack  and  saw  the  dog  fly  up  in  the  air  and  drop  in 
the  water.  He  and  his  gun  had  gone  up,  too,  but 
he  came  back  on  the  raft  with  one  leg  in  between 
two  logs  and  he  drew  it  up  in  time  to  keep  the 
limb  from  being  smashed  to  a  pulp  as  the  logs 
crashed  together  again,  but  not  quickly  enough  to 
save  the  foot  from  a  painful  squeeze.  Then  he 
saw  Tom  and  Dolph  leap  back  again,  the  raft 
whirled  on  and  steadied  in  its  course,  and  behind 
him  he  saw  Jack  swimming  feebly  for  the  shore 
— fighting  the  waves  for  his  life,  for  the  dog  was 
hurt.  Twice  he  turned  his  eyes  despairingly 

63 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COMB, 

toward  Chad,  and  the  boy  would  have  leaped  in 
the  water  to  save  him  if  Tom  had  not  caught  him 
by  the  arm. 

"Tell  him  to  git  to  shore,"  he  said  quickly,  and 
Chad  motioned,  when  Jack  looked  again,  and  the 
dog  obediently  made  for  land.  Old  Joel  was  call 
ing  tenderly: 

"Come  on,  Jack;    come  on,  ole  feller!" 

Chad  watched  with  a  thumping  heart.  Once 
Jack  went  under,  but  gave  no  sound.  Again  he 
disappeared,  and  when  he  came  up  he  gave  a  cry 
for  help,  but  when  he  heard  Chad's  answering  cry 
ihe  fought  on  stroke  by  stroke  until  Chad  saw  old 
Joel  reach  out  from  the  bushes  and  pull  him  in. 
And  Chad  could  see  that  one  of  his  hind  legs  hung 
ilimp.  Then  the  raft  swung  around  the  curve  out 
•of  sight. 

Behind,  the  whole  crowd  rushed  down  to  the 
water's  edge.  Jack  tried  to  get  away  from  old 
Joel  and  scramble  after  Chad  on  his  broken  leg, 
ibut  old  Joel  held  him,  soothing  him,  and  carried 
'him  back  to  the  house,  where  the  old  "yarb  doc 
tor"  put  splints  on  the  leg  and  bound  it  up  tightly, 
just  as  though  it  had  been  the  leg  of  a  child.  Me 
lissa  was  crying  and  the  old  man  put  his  hand  on 
Jher  head. 

"He'll  be  all  right,  honey.  That  leg'll  be  as 
•good  as  the  other  one  in  two  or  three  weeks.  It's 
all  right,  little  gal." 

64 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  TIDE 

Melissa  stopped  weeping  with  a  sudden  gulp. 
But  when  Jack  was  lying  in  the  kitchen  by  the  fire 
alone,  she  slipped  in  and  put  her  arm  around  the 
dog's  head,  and,  when  Jack  began  to  lick  her  face, 
she  bent  her  own  head  down  and  sobbed. 


OUT   OF  THE    WILDERNESS 

the  way  to  God's  Country  at  last! 
Already  Chad  had  schooled  himself  for  the 
parting  with  Jack,  and  but  for  this  he  must — 
little  man  that  he  was — have  burst  into  tears.  As 
it  was,  the  lump  in  his  throat  stayed  there  a  long 
while,  but  it  passed  in  the  excitement  of  that  mad 
race  down  the  river.  The  ol/4  Squii/^  had  never 
known  such  a  tide. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  gleefully,  f  we're  goin*  to  make 
a  record  on  this  trip — you  jus'  see  if  we  don't. 
That  is,  if  we  ever  git  thar  alive." 

All  the  time  the  old  man  stood  in  die  middle  of 
the  raft  yelling  orders.  Ahead  was  the  Dillon  raft, 
and  the  twin  brothers — the  giants,  one  mild,  the 
other  sour-faced — were  gesticulating  angrily  at 
each  other  from  bow  and  stern.  As  usual,  they 
were  quarrelling.  On  the  Turner  raft,  Dolph  was 
at  the  bow,  the  school-master  at  the  stern,  while 
Rube — who  was  cook — and  Chad,  in  spite  of  a 
stinging  pain  in  one  foot,  built  an  oven  of  stones, 
where  coffee  could  be  boiled  and  bacon  broiled, 

66 


OU1   OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

and  started  a  fire,  for  the  air  was  chill  on  the  river, 
especially  when  they  were  running  between  the 
hills  and  no  sun  could  strike  them. 

When  the  fire  blazed  up,  Chad  sat  by  it  watch 
ing  Tall  Tom  and  the  school-master  at  the  stern 
oar  and  Rube  at  the  bow.  When  the  turn  was 
sharp,  how  they  lashed  the  huge  white  blades 
through  the  yellow  water — with  the  handle  across 
their  broad  chests,  catching  with  their  toes  in  the 
little  notches  that  had  been  chipped  along  the  logs 
and  tossing  the  oars  down  and  up  with  a  mighty 
swing  that  made  the  blades  quiver  and  bend  like 
the  tops  of  pliant  saplings!  Then,  on  a  run,  they 
would  rush  back  to  start  the  stroke  again,  while 
the  old  Squire  yelled: 

"Hit  her  up  thar  now — easy — easy!  Now! 
Hit  her  up!  Hit  her  up — Now!" 

Now  they  passed  between  upright,  wooded, 
gray  mountain-sides,  threaded  with  faint  lines  of 
the  coming  green;  now  between  gray  walls  of  rock 
streaked  white  with  water-falls,  and  now  past  nar 
row  little  valleys  which  were  just  beginning  to 
sprout  with  corn.  At  the  mouth  of  the  creeks  they 
saw  other  rafts  making  ready  and,  now  and  then,  a 
raft  would  shoot  out  in  the  river  from  some  creek 
ahead  or  behind  them.  In  an  hour,  they  struck  a 
smooth  run  of  several  hundred  yards  where  the 
men  at  the  oars  could  sit  still  and  rest,  while  the 
raft  shot  lightly  forward  in  the  middle  of  the 

67 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

stream;  and  down  the  river  they  could  see  the  big 
Dillons  making  the  next  sharp  turn  and,  even  that 
far  away,  they  could  hear  Jerry  yelling  and  swear 
ing  at  his  patient  brother. 

"Some  o'  these  days,"  said  the  old  Squire,  "that 
fool  Jake's  a-goin'  to  pick  up  somethin'  an'  knock 
that  mean  Jerry's  head  off.  I  wonder  he  hain't 
done  it  afore.  Hit's  funny  how  brothers  can  hate 
when  they  do  git  to  hatin'." 

That  night,  they  tied  up  at  Jackson — to  be  fa 
mous  long  after  the  war  as  the  seat  of  a  bitter 
mountain-feud.  At  noon,  the  next  day,  they  struck 
"the  Nahrrers"  (Narrows),  where  the  river  ran 
like  a  torrent  between  high  steep  walls  of  rock,  and 
where  the  men  stood  to  the  oars  watchfully  and  the 
old  Squire  stood  upright,  watching  every  move 
ment  of  the  raft;  for  "bowing"  there  would  have 
meant  destruction  to  the  raft  and  the  death  of 
them  all.  That  night  they  were  in  Beattyville, 
whence  they  floated  next  day,  along  lower  hills  and, 
now  and  then,  past  a  broad  valley.  Once  Chad 
looked  at  the  school-master — he  wondered  if  they 
were  approaching  the  Bluegrass — but  Caleb  Hazei 
smiled  and  shook  his  head.  And  had  Chad  waited 
another  half  hour,  he  would  not  have  asked  the 
question,  even  with  his  eyes,  for  they  swept  be 
tween  high  cliffs  again — higher  than  he  had  yet 
seen. 

That  night  they  ran  from  dark  to  dawn,  for 
68 


OUT  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  river  was  broader  and  a  brilliant  moon  was 
high;  and,  all  night,  Chad  could  hear  the  swish  of 
the  oars,  as  they  floated  in  mysterious  silence  past 
the  trees  and  the  hills  and  the  moonlit  cliffs,  and  he 
lay  on  his  back,  looking  up  at  the  moon  and  the 
stars,  and  thinking  about  the  land  to  which  he  was 
going  and  of  Jack  back  in  the  land  he  had  left; 
and  of  little  Melissa.  She  had  behaved  very 
strangely  during  the  last  few  days  before  the  boy 
had  left.  She  had  not  been  sharp  with  him,  even 
in  play.  She  had  been  very  quiet — indeed,  she 
scarcely  spoke  a  word  to  him,  but  she  did  lit 
tle  things  for  him  that  she  had  never  done  before, 
and  she  was  unusually  kind  to  Jack.  Once,  Chad 
found  her  crying  behind  the  barn,  and  then  she  was 
very  sharp  with  him,  and  told  him  to  go  away  and 
cried  more  than  ever.  Her  little  face  looked  very 
white,  as  she  stood  on  the  bank,  and,  somehow, 
Chad  saw  it  all  that  night  in  the  river  and  among 
the  trees  and  up  among  the  stars,  but  he  little  knew 
what  it  all  meant  to  him  or  to  her.  He  thought  of 
the  Turners  back  at  home,  and  he  could  see  them 
sitting  around  the  big  fire — Joel  with  his  pipe,  the 
old  mother  spinning  flax,  Jack  asleep  on  the  hearth, 
and  Melissa's  big  solemn  eyes  shining  from  the 
dark  corner  where  she  lay  wide-awake  in  bed  and, 
when  he  went  to  sleep,  her  eyes  followed  him  in  his 
dreams. 

When  he  awoke,  the  day  was  just  glimmering 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

over  the  hills,  and  the  chill  air  made  him  shiver, 
as  he  built  up  the  fire  and  began  to  get  breakfast 
ready.  At  noon,  that  day,  though  the  cliffs  were 
still  high,  the  raft  swung  out  into  a  broader  cur 
rent,  where  the  water  ran  smoothly  and,  once,  the 
hills  parted  and,  looking  past  a  log-cabin  on  the 
bank  of  the  river,  Chad  saw  a  stone  house — relic 
of  pioneer  days — and,  farther  out,  through  a  gap 
in  the  hills,  a  huge  house  with  great  pillars  around 
it  and,  on  the  hill-side,  many  sheep  and  fat  cattle 
and  a  great  barn.  There  dwelt  one  of  the  lords 
of  the  Bluegrass  land,  and  again  Chad  looked  to 
the  school-master  and,  this  time,  the  school-master 
smiled  and  nodded  as  though  to  say: 

"We're  getting  close  now,  Chad."  So  Chad 
rose  to  his  feet  thrilled,  and  watched  the  scene 
until  the  hills  shut  it  off  again.  One  more  night 
and  one  more  dawn,  and,  before  the  sun  rose,  the 
hills  had  grown  smaller  and  smaller  and  the 
glimpses  between  them  more  frequent  and,  at  last, 
far  down  the  river,  Chad  saw  a  column  of  smoke 
and  all  the  men  on  the  raft  took  off  their  hats  and 
shouted.  The  end  of  the  trip  was  near,  for  that 
black  column  meant  the  capital! 

Chad  trembled  on  his  feet  and  his  heart  rose 
into  his  throat,  while  Caleb  Hazel  seemed  hardly 
less  moved.  His  hat  was  off  and  he  stood  motion 
less,  with  his  face  uplifted,  and  his  grave  eyes  fast 
ened  on  that  dark  column  as  though  it  rose  from 

70 


OUT  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  pillar  of  fire  that  was  leading  him  to  some 
promised  land. 

As  they  rounded  the  next  curve,  some  monster 
swept  out  of  the  low  hills  on  the  right,  with  a 
shriek  that  startled  the  boy  almost  into  terror  and, 
with  a  mighty  puffing  and  rumbling,  shot  out  of 
sight  again.  The  school-master  shouted  to  Chad, 
and  the  Turner  brothers  grinned  at  him  delight 
edly: 

"Steam-cars!"  they  cried,  and  Chad  nodded 
back  gravely,  trying  to  hold  in  his  wonder. 

Sweeping  around  the  next  curve,  another  mon 
ster  hove  in  sight  with  the  same  puffing  and  a  long 
"h-o-o-ot!"  A  monster  on  the  river  and  moving 
up  stream  steadily,  with  no  oar  and  no  man  in 
sight,  and  the  Turners  and  the  school-master 
shouted  again.  Chad's  eyes  grew  big  with  wonder 
and  he  ran  forward  to  see  the  rickety  little  steam 
boat  approach  and,  with  wide  eyes,  devoured  it,  as 
it  wheezed  and  labored  up-stream  past  them — 
watched  the  thundering  stern-wheel  threshing  the 
water  into  a  wake  of  foam  far  behind  it  and  flash 
ing  its  blades,  water-dripping  in  the  sun — watched 
it  till  it  puffed  and  wheezed  and  labored  on  out  of 
sight.  Great  Heavens!  to  think  that  he — Chad — 
was  seeing  all  that! 

About  the  next  bend,  more  but  thinner  columns 
of  smoke  were  visible.  Soon  the  very  hills  over  the 
capital  could  be  seen,  with  little  green  wheat-fields 

7i 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

dotting  them  and,  as  the  raft  drew  a  little  closer, 
Chad  could  see  houses  on  the  hills — more  strange 
houses  of  wood  and  stone,  and  porches,  and  queer 
towers  on  them  from  which  glistened  shining 
points. 

"What's  them?"  he  asked. 

"Lightnin'-rods,"  said  Tom,  and  Chad  under 
stood,  for  the  school-master  had  told  him  about 
them  back  in  the  mountains.  Was  there  anything 
that  Caleb  Hazel  had  not  told  him  ?  The  haze 
over  the  town  was  now  visible,  and  soon  they  swept 
past  tall  chimneys  puffing  out  smoke,  great  ware 
houses  covered  on  the  outside  with  weather-brown 
tin,  and,  straight  ahead — Heavens,  what  a  bridge! 
— arching  clear  over  the  river  and  covered  like  a 
house,  from  which  people  were  looking  down  on 
them  as  they  swept  under.  There  were  the  houses, 
in  two  rows  on  the  streets,  jammed  up  against  each 
other  and  without  any  yards.  And  people!  Where 
had  so  many  people  come  from  ?  Close  to  the  river 
and  beyond  the  bridge  was  another  great  mansion, 
with  tall  pillars;  about  it  was  a  green  yard,  as 
smooth  as  a  floor,  and  negroes  and  children  were 
standing  on  the  outskirting  stone  wall  and  looking 
down  at  them  as  they  floated  by.  And  another 
great  house  still,  and  a  big  garden  with  little  paths 
running  through  it  and  more  patches  of  that 
strange  green  grass.  Was  that  bluegrass  ?  It  was, 
but  it  didn't  look  blue  and  it  didn't  look  like  any 

72 


OUT  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

other  grass  Chad  had  ever  seen.  Below  this  bridge 
was  another  bridge,  but  not  so  high,  and,  while 
Chad  looked,  another  black  monster  on  wheels 
went  crashing  over  it. 

Tom  and  the  school-master  were  working  the 
raft  slowly  to  the  shore  now,  and,  a  little  farther 
down,  Chad  could  see  more  rafts  tied  up — rafts, 
rafts,  nothing  but  rafts  on  the  river,  everywhere! 
Up  the  bank  a  mighty  buzzing  was  going  on,  amid 
a  cloud  of  dust,  and  little  cars  with  logs  on  them 
were  shooting  about  amid  the  gleamings  of  many 
saws,  and,  now  and  then,  a  log  would  leap  from 
the  river  and  start  up  toward  that  dust-cloud  with 
two  glistening  iron  teeth  sunk  in  one  end  and  a 
long  iron  chain  stretching  up  along  a  groove  built 
of  boards — and  Heaven  only  knew  what  was  pull 
ing  it  up.  On  the  bank  was  a  stout,  jolly-looking 
man,  whose  red,  kind  face  looked  familiar  to  Chad, 
as  he  ran  down  shouting  a  welcome  to  the  Squire. 
Then  the  raft  slipped  along  another  raft,  Tom 
sprang  aboard  it  with  the  grape-vine  cable,  and 
the  school-master  leaped  aboard  with  another  cable 
from  the  stern. 

"Why,  boy,"  cried  the  stout  man.  "Where's 
yo'  dog?"  Then  Chad  recognized  him,  for  he 
was  none  other  than  the  cattle-dealer  who  had  given 
him  Jack. 

"I  left  him  at  home." 

"Is  he  all  right?" 

73 


"Yes— I  reckon." 

"Then  I'd  like  to  have  him  back  again." 

Chad  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"Not  much." 

"Well,  he's  the  best  sheep-dog  on  earth." 

The  raft  slowed  up,  creaking — slower — strain 
ing  and  creaking,  and  stopped.  The  trip  was  over, 
and  the  Squire  had  made  his  "record,"  for  the  red- 
faced  man  whistled  incredulously  when  the  old  man 
told  him  what  day  he  had  left  Kingdom  Come. 

An  hour  later  the  big  Dillon  twins  hove  in  sight, 
just  as  the  Turner  party  was  climbing  the  sawdust 
hill  into  the  town,  where  Dolph  and  Rube  were  for 
taking  the  middle  of  the  street  like  other  moun 
taineers,  who  were  marching  thus  ahead  of  them, 
single  file,  but  Tom  and  the  school-master  laughed 
at  them  and  drew  them  over  to  the  sidewalk. 
Bricks  and  stones  laid  down  for  people  to  walk  on 
— how  wonderful!  And  all  the  houses  were  of 
brick  or  were  weather-boarded — all  built  together, 
wall  against  wall.  And  the  stores  with  the  big 
glass  windows  all  filled  with  wonderful  things! 
Then  a  pair  of  swinging  green  shutters  through 
which,  while  Chad  and  the  school-master  waited 
outside,  Tom  insisted  on  taking  Dolph  and  Rube 
and  giving  them  their  first  drink  of  Bluegrass  whis 
key — red  liquor,  as  the  hill-men  call  it.  A  little 
farther  on,  they  all  stopped  still  on  a  corner  of  the 
street,  while  the  school-master  pointed  out  to  Chad 

74 


OUT  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

and  Dolph  and  Rube  the  Capitol — a  mighty  struct 
ure  of  massive  stone,  with  majestic  stone  columns* 
where  people  went  to  the  Legislature.  How  they 
looked  with  wondering  eyes  at  the  great  flag  float 
ing  lazily  over  it,  and  at  the  wonderful  fountain 
tossing  water  in  the  air,  and  with  the  water  three 
white  balls  which  leaped  and  danced  in  the  jet  of 
shining  spray  and  never  flew  away  from  it.  How 
did  they  stay  there  ?  The  school-master  laughed 
— Chad  had  asked  him  a  question  at  last  that  he 
couldn't  answer.  And  the  tall  spiked  iron  fence 
that  ran  all  the  way  around  the  yard,  which  was 
full  of  trees — how  wonderful  that  was,  too!  As 
they  stood  looking,  law-makers  and  visitors  poured 
out  through  the  doors — a  brave  array — some  of 
them  in  tight  trousers,  high  hats,  and  blue  coats  with 
brass  buttons,  and,  as  they  passed,  Caleb  Hazef 
reverently  whispered  the  names  of  those  he  knew 
— distinguished  lawyers,  statesmen,  and  Mexican 
veterans:  witty  Tom  Marshall;  Roger  Hanson, 
bulky,  brilliant;  stately  Preston,  eagle-eyed  Buck- 
ner,  and  Breckenridge,  the  magnificent,  forensic  in 
bearing.  Chad  was  thrilled. 

A  little  farther  on,  they  turned  to  the  left,  and 
the  school-master  pointed  out  the  Governor's  man 
sion,  and  there,  close  by,  was  a  high  gray  wall — a 
wall  as  high  as  a  house,  with  a  wooden  box  taller 
than  a  man  on  each  corner,  and,  inside,  another 
big  gray  building  in  which,  visible  above  the  walls, 

75 


were  grated  windows — the  penitentiary!  Every 
mountaineer  has  heard  that  word,  and  another — 
the  "Legislator'." 

Chad  shivered  as  he  looked,  for  he  could  recall 
that  sometimes  down  in  the  mountains  a  man  would 
disappear  for  years  and  turn  up  again  at  home, 
whitened  by  confinement;  and,  during  his  absence, 
when  anyone  asked  about  him,  the  answer  was — 
"penitentiary."  He  wondered  what  those  boxes 
on  the  walls  were  for,  and  he  was  about  to  ask,  when 
a  guard  stepped  from  one  of  them  with  a  musket 
and  started  to  patrol  the  wall,  and  he  had  no  need 
to  ask.  Tom  wanted  to  go  up  on  the  hill  and  look 
at  the  Armory  and  the  graveyard,  but  the  school 
master  said  they  did  not  have  time,  and,  on  the 
moment,  the  air  was  startled  with  whistles  far  and 
near — six  o'clock!  At  once  Caleb  Hazel  led  the 
way  to  supper  in  the  boarding-house,  where  a  kind- 
faced  old  lady  spoke  to  Chad  in  a  motherly  way, 
and  where  the  boy  saw  his  first  hot  biscuit  and  was 
almost  afraid  to  eat  anything  at  the  table  for  fear 
he  might  do  something  wrong.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  too,  he  slept  on  a  mattress  without  any 
feather-bed,  and  Chad  lay  wondering,  but  unsatis 
fied  still.  Not  yet  had  he  been  out  of  sight  of  the 
hills,  but  the  master  had  told  him  that  they  would 
see  the  Bluegrass  next  day,  when  they  were  to  start 
back  to  the  mountains  by  train  as  far  as  Lexington. 
And  Chad  went  to  sleep,  dreaming  his  old  dream 
still. 

76 


VI 

LOST   AT  THE    CAPITAL 

TT  had  been  arranged  by  the  school-master  that 
they  should  all  meet  at  the  railway  station  to 
go  home,  next  day  at  noon,  and,  as  the  Turner 
boys  had  to  help  the  Squire  with  the  logs  at  the 
river,  and  the  school-master  had  to  attend  to  some 
business  of  his  own,  Chad  roamed  all  morning 
around  the  town.  So  engrossed  was  he  with  the 
people  and  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  little 
village  that  he  came  to  himself  with  a  start  and 
trotted  back  to  the  boarding-house  for  fear  that  he 
might  not  be  able  to  find  the  station  alone.  The 
old  lady  was  standing  in  the  sunshine  at  the  gate. 

Chad  panted— "Where's ?" 

"The/ re  gone." 

"Gone!"  echoed  Chad,  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"Yes,  they've  been  gone — "  But  Chad  did  not 
wait  to  listen;  he  whirled  into  the  hall-way,  caught 
up  his  rifle,  and,  forgetting  his  injured  foot,  fled 
at  full  speed  down  the  street.  He  turned  the  cor 
ner,  but  could  not  see  the  station,  and  he  ran  on 
about  another  corner  and  still  another,  and,  just 
when  he  was  about  to  burst  into  tears,  he  saw  the 

77 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

low  roof  that  he  was  looking  for,  and  hot,  panting, 
and  tired,  he  rushed  to  it,  hardly  able  to  speak. 

"Has  that  enjine  gone  ?"  he  asked  breathlessly. 
The  man  who  was  whirling  trunks  on  their  corners 
into  the  baggage-room  did  not  answer.  Chad's 
eyes  flashed  and  he  caught  the  man  by  the  coat-tail. 

"'Has  that  enjine  gone?"  he  cried. 

The  man  looked  over  his  shoulder. 

"Leggo  my  coat,  you  little  devil.  Yes,  that  en- 
jine's  gone,"  he  added,  mimicking.  Then  he  saw 
the  boy's  unhappy  face  and  he  dropped  the  trunk 
and  turned  to  him. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  kindly. 

Chad  had  turned  away  with  a  sob. 

"  They've  leF  me — they've  leP  me,"  he  said, 
and  then,  controlling  himself: 

"Is  thar  another  goin'  ?" 

"Not  till  to-morrow  mornin'." 

Another  sob  came,  and  Chad  turned  away — he 
did  not  want  anybody  to  see  him  cry.  And  this 
was  no  time  for  crying,  for  Chad's  prayer  back  at 
the  grave  under  the  poplar  flashed  suddenly  back 
to  him. 

"I  got  to  ack  like  a  man  now."  And,  sobered 
at  once,  he  walked  on  up  the  hill — thinking.  He 
could  not  know  that  the  school-master  was  back  in 
the  town,  looking  for  him.  If  he  waited  until  the 
next  morning,  the  Turners  would  probably  have 
gone  on;  whereas,  if  he  started  out  now  on  foot, 

78 


and  walked  all  night,  he  might  catch  them  before 
they  left  Lexington  next  morning.  And  if  he 
missed  the  Squire  and  the  Turner  boys,  he  could 
certainly  find  the  school-master  there.  And  if  not, 
he  could  go  on  to  the  mountains  alone.  Or  he 
might  stay  in  the  "  settlemints  " — what  had  he  come 
for  ?  He  might — he  would — oh,  he'd  get  along 
somehow,  he  said  to  himself,  wagging  his  head- 
he  always  had  and  he  always  would.  He  could  al 
ways  go  back  to  the  mountains.  If  he  only  had 
Jack — if  he  only  had  Jack!  Nothing  would  make 
any  difference  then,  and  he  would  never  be  lonely, 
if  he  only  had  Jack.  But,  cheered  with  his  deter 
mination,  he  rubbed  the  tears  from  his  eyes  with 
his  coat-sleeve  and  climbed  the  long  hill.  There 
was  the  Armory,  which,  years  later,  was  to  harbor 
Union  troops  in  the  great  war,  and  beyond  it  was 
the  little  city  of  the  dead  that  sits  on  top  of  the 
hill  far  above  the  shining  river.  At  the  great  iron 
gates  he  stopped  a  moment,  peering  through.  He 
saw  a  wilderness  of  white  slabs  and,  not  until  he 
made  his  way  across  the  thick  green  turf  and 
spelled  out  the  names  carved  on  them,  could  he 
make  out  what  they  were  for.  How  he  wondered 
when  he  saw  the  innumerable  green  mounds,  for 
he  hardly  knew  there  were  as  many  people  in  the 
world  living  as  he  saw  there  must  be  in  that  place, 
dead.  But  he  had  no  time  to  spare  and  he  turned 
quickly  back  to  the  pike — saddened — for  his  heart 

79 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

went  back,  as  his  faithful  heart  was  always  doing, 
to  the  lonely  graves  under  the  big  poplar  back  in 
the  mountains. 

When  he  reached  the  top  of  the  slope,  he  saw  a 
rolling  country  of  low  hills  stretching  out  before 
him,  greening  with  spring;  with  far  stretches  of 
thick  grass  and  many  woodlands  under  a  long,  low 
sky,  and  he  wondered  if  this  was  the  Bluegrass. 
But  he  "reckoned"  not — not  yet.  And  yet  he 
looked  in  wonder  at  the  green  slopes,  and  the 
woods,  and  the  flashing  creek,  and  nowhere  in 
front  of  him — wonder  of  all — could  he  see  a 
mountain.  It  was  as  Caleb  Hazel  had  told  him, 
only  Chad  was  not  looking  for  any  such  mysterious 
joy  as  thrilled  his  sensitive  soul.  There  had  been 
a  light  sprinkle  of  snow — such  a  fall  as  may  come 
even  in  early  April — but  the  noon  sun  had  let  the 
wheat-fields  and  the  pastures  blossom  through  it, 
and  had  swept  it  from  the  gray  moist  pike  until 
now  there  were  patches  of  white  only  in  gully  and 
along  north  hill-sides  under  little  groups  of  pines 
and  in  the  woods,  where  the  sunlight  could  not 
reach;  and  Chad  trudged  sturdily  on  in  spite  of 
his  heavy  rifle  and  his  lame  foot,  keenly  alive  to 
the  new  sights  and  sounds  and  smells  of  the  new 

O 

world — on  until  the  shadows  lengthened  and  the 
air  chilled  again;  on,  until  the  sun  began  to  sink 
close  to  the  far-away  haze  of  the  horizon.  Never 
had  the  horizon  looked  so  far  away.  His  foot 

80 


LOST  AT  THE  CAPITAL 

began  to  hurt,  and  on  the  top  of  a  hill  he  had 
to  stop  and  sit  down  for  a  while  in  the  road,  the 
pain  was  so  keen.  The  sun  was  setting  now  in 
a  glory  of  gold,  rose,  pink,  and  crimson.  Over 
him,  the  still  clouds  caught  the  divine  light  which 
swept  swiftly  through  the  heavens  until  the  little 
pink  clouds  over  the  east,  too,  turned  golden  pink 
and  the  whole  heavens  were  suffused  with  green 
and  gold.  In  the  west,  cloud  was  piled  on  cloud 
like  vast  cathedrals  that  must  have  been  built  for 
worship  on  the  way  straight  to  the  very  throne 
of  God.  And  Chad  sat  thrilled,  as  he  had  been 
at  the  sunrise  on  the  mountains  the  morning  after 
he  ran  away.  There  was  no  storm,  but  the  same 
loneliness  came  to  him  now  and  he  wondered  what 
he  should  do.  He  could  not  get  much  farther  that 
night — his  foot  hurt  too  badly.  He  looked  up — 
the  clouds  had  turned  to  ashes  and  the  air  was 
growing  chill — and  he  got  to  his  feet  and  started 
on.  At  the  bottom  of  the  hill  and  down  a  little 
creek  he  saw  a  light  and  he  turned  toward  it.  The 
house  was  small,  and  he  could  hear  the  crying  of 
a  child  inside  and  could  see  a  tall  man  cutting  wood, 
so  he  stopped  at  the  bars  and  shouted: 

"Hello!" 

The  man  stopped  his  axe  in  mid-air  and  turned. 
A  woman,  with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  appeared  in 
the  light  of  the  door  with  children  crowding  about 
her. 

8l 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"Hello!"  answered  the  man. 

"I  want  to  git  to  stay  all  night."  The  man  hes 
itated. 

"We  don't  keep  people  all  night." 

"Not  keep  people  all  night,"  thought  Chad  with 
wonder. 

"Oh,  I  reckon  you  will,"  he  said.  Was  there 
anybody  in  the  world  who  wouldn't  take  in  a 
stranger  for  the  night  ?  From  the  doorway  the 
woman  saw  that  it  was  a  boy  who  was  asking  shel 
ter  and  the  trust  in  his  voice  appealed  vaguely  to 
her. 

"Come  in!"  she  called,  in  a  patient,  whining 
tone.  "You  can  stay,  I  reckon." 

But  Chad  changed  his  mind  suddenly.  If  they 
were  in  doubt  about  wanting  him — he  was  in  no 
doubt  as  to  what  he  would  do. 

"No,  I  reckon  I'd  better  git  on,"  he  said  sturdily, 
and  he  turned  and  limped  back  up  the  hill  to  the 
road — still  wondering,  and  he  remembered  that,  in 
the  mountains,  when  people  wanted  to  stay  all 
night,  they  usually  stopped  before  sundown.  Trav 
elling  after  dark  was  suspicious  in  the  mountains, 
and  perhaps  it  was  in  this  land,  too.  So,  with  this 
thought,  he  had  half  a  mind  to  go  back  and  ex 
plain,  but  he  pushed  on.  Half  a  mile  farther,  his 
foot  was  so  bad  that  he  stopped  with  a  cry  of  pain 
in  the  road  and,  seeing  a  barn  close  by,  he  climbed 
the  fence  and  into  the  loft  and  burrowed  himself 

82 


LOST  AT  THE  CAPITAL 

under  the  hay.  From  under  the  shed  he  could  see 
the  stars  rising.  It  was  very  still  and  very  lonely 
and  he  was  hungry — hungrier  and  lonelier  than  he 
had  ever  been  in  his  life,  and  a  sob  of  helplessness 
rose  to  his  lips — if  he  only  had  Jack — but  he  held 
it  back. 

"  I  got  to  ack  like  a  man  now."     And,  saying  this 
over  and  over  to  himself,  he  went  to  sleep. 


VII 

A    FRIEND    ON   THE    ROAD 

13  AIN  fell  that  night — gentle  rain  and  warm, 
for  the  south  wind  rose  at  midnight.  At 
four  o'clock  a  shower  made  the  shingles  over  Chad 
rattle  sharply,  but  without  wakening  the  lad,  and 
then  the  rain  ceased;  and  when  Chad  climbed 
stiffly  from  his  loft — the  world  was  drenched  and 
still,  and  the  dawn  was  warm,  for  spring  had  come 
that  morning,  and  Chad  trudged  along  the  road 
— unchilled.  Every  now  and  then  he  had  to  stop 
to  rest  his  foot.  Now  and  then  he  would  see  peo 
ple  getting  breakfast  ready  in  the  farm-houses  that 
he  passed,  and,  though  his  little  belly  was  drawn 
with  pain,  he  would  not  stop  and  ask  for  something 
to  eat — for  he  did  not  want  to  risk  another  rebuff. 
The  sun  rose  and  the  light  leaped  from  every  wet 
blade  of  grass  and  bursting  leaf  to  meet  it — leaped 
as  though  flashing  back  gladness  that  the  spring 
was  come.  For  a  little  while  Chad  forgot  his  hun 
ger  and  forgot  his  foot — like  the  leaf  and  grass- 
blade  his  stout  heart  answered  with  gladness,  too, 
and  he  trudged  on. 

84 


A  FRIEND  ON  THE  ROAD 

Meanwhile,  far  behind  him,  an  old  carriage 
rolled  out  of  a  big  yard  and  started  toward  him 
and  toward  Lexington.  In  the  driver's  seat  was 
an  old  gray-haired,  gray-bearded  negro  with 
knotty  hands  and  a  kindly  face;  while,  on  the 
oval-shaped  seat  behind  the  lumbering  old  vehicle, 
sat  a  little  darky  with  his  bare  legs  dangling  down. 
In  the  carriage  sat  a  man  who  might  have  been  a 
stout  squire  straight  from  merry  England,  except 
that  there  was  a  little  tilt  to  the  brim  of  his  slouch 
hat  that  one  never  sees  except  on  the  head  of  a 
Southerner,  and  in  his  strong,  but  easy,  good-nat 
ured  mouth  was  a  pipe  of  corn-cob  with  a  long 
cane  stem.  The  horses  that  drew  him  were  a  hand 
some  pair  of  half  thorough-breds,  and  the  old 
driver,  with  his  eyes  half  closed,  looked  as  though, 
even  that  early  in  the  morning,  he  were  dozing. 

An  hour  later,  the  pike  ran  through  an  old 
wooden-covered  bridge,  to  one  side  of  which  a  road 
led  down  to  the  water,  and  the  old  negro  turned 
the  carriage  to  the  creek  to  let  his  horses  drink. 
The  carriage  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  stream 
and  presently  the  old  driver  turned  his  head: 

"Mars  Cal!"  he  called  in  a  low  voice.  The 
Major  raised  his  head.  The  old  negro  was  point 
ing  with  his  whip  ahead  and  the  Major  saw  some 
thing  sitting  on  the  stone  fence,  some  twenty  yards 
beyond,  which  stirred  him  sharply  from  his  mood 
of  contemplation. 

85 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

"Shades  of  Dan'l  Boone!"  he  said,  softly.  It 
was  a  miniature  pioneer — the  little  still  figure 
watching  him  solemnly  and  silently.  Across  the 
boy's  lap  lay  a  long  rifle — the  Major  could  see 
that  it  had  a  flintlock — and  on  his  tangled  hair  was 
a  coonskin  cap — the  scalp  above  his  steady  dark 
eyes  and  the  tail  hanging  down  the  lad's  neck.  And 
on  his  feet  were — moccasins !  The  carriage  moved 
out  of  the  stream  and  the  old  driver  got  down  to 
hook  the  check-reins  over  the  shining  bit  of  metal 
that  curved  back  over  the  little  saddles  to  which  the 
boy's  eyes  had  swiftly  strayed.  Then  they  came 
back  to  the  Major. 

"Howdye!"  said  Chad. 

"Good-mornin',  little  man,"  said  the  Major 
pleasantly,  and  Chad  knew  straightway  that  he  had 
found  a  friend.  But  there  was  silence.  Chad 
scanned  the  horses  and  the  strange  vehicle  and  the 
old  driver  and  the  little  pickaninny  who,  hearing 
the  boy's  voice,  had  stood  up  on  his  seat  and  was 
grinning  over  one  of  the  hind  wheels,  and  then  his 
eyes  rested  on  the  Major  with  a  simple  confidence 
and  unconscious  appeal  that  touched  the  Major  at 
once. 

"Are  you  goin'  my  way  ?"  The  Major's  nature 
was  too  mellow  and  easy-going  to  pay  any  atten 
tion  to  final  g's.  Chad  lifted  his  old  gun  and 
pointed  up  the  road. 

"I'm  a-goin'  thataway." 
86 


A  FRIEND  ON  THE  ROAD 

"Well,  don't  you  want  to  ride?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  simply. 

"Climb  right  in,  my  boy." 

So  Chad  climbed  in,  and,  holding  the  old  rifle 
upright  between  his  knees,  he  looked  straight  for 
ward,  in  silence,  while  the  Major  studied  him  with 
a  quiet  smile. 

"Where  are  you  from,  little  man  ?" 

"I  come  from  the  mountains." 

"The  mountains  ?"  said  the  Major. 

The  Major  had  fished  and  hunted  in  the  moun- 
tians,  and  somewhere  in  that  unknown  region  he 
owned  a  kingdom  of  wild  mountain-land,  but  he 
knew  as  little  about  the  people  as  he  knew  about 
the  Hottentots,  and  cared  hardly  more. 

"What  are  you  doin'  up  here  ?" 

"I'm  goin'  home,"  said  Chad. 

"How  did  you  happen  to  come  away  ?" 

"Oh,  I  been  wantin'  to  see  the  settlemm/j." 

"The  settlera/rc/.f,"  echoed  the  Major,  and  then 
he  understood.  He  recalled  having  heard  the 
mountaineers  call  the  Bluegrass  region  the  "settle- 
mints"  before. 

"I  come  down  on  a  raft  with  Dolph  and  Tom 
and  Rube  and  the  Squire  and  the  school-teacher,  an* 
I  got  lost  in  Frankfort.  They've  gone  on,  I 
reckon,  an*  I'm  tryin'  to  ketch  'em." 

"What  will  you  do  if  you  don't  ?" 

"Foller  'em,"  said  Chad,  sturdily. 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"Does  your  father  live  down  in  the  mountains  ?" 

"No,"  said  Chad,  shortly. 

The  Major  looked  at  the  lad  gravely. 

"Don't  little  boys  down  in  the  mountains  ever 
say  'sir'  to  their  elders  ?" 

"No,"  said  Chad.  "No,  sir,"  he  added  gravely, 
and  the  Major  broke  into  a  pleased  laugh — the 
boy  was  quick  as  lightning. 

"I  ain't  got  no  daddy.  An'  no  mammy — I 
ain't  got — nothin'."  It  was  said  quite  simply,  as 
though  his  purpose  merely  was  not  to  sail  under 
false  colors,  and  the  Major's  answer  was  quick  and 
•apologetic: 

"Oh!"  he  said,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  si 
lence  again.  Chad  watched  the  woods,  the  fields, 
and  the  cattle,  the  strange  grain  growing  about 
him,  and  the  birds  and  the  trees.  Not  a  thing  es 
caped  his  keen  eye,  and,  now  and  then,  he  would 
ask  a  question  which  the  Major  would  answer  with 
some  surprise  and  wonder.  His  artless  ways 
pleased  the  old  fellow. 

"You  haven't  told  me  your  name." 

"You  hain't  axed  me." 

"Well,  I  axe  you  now,"  laughed  the  Major,  but 
Chad  saw  nothing  to  laugh  at. 

"Chad,"  he  said. 

"Chad  what?" 

Now  it  had  always  been  enough  in  the  moun 
tains,  when  anybody  asked  his  name,  for  him  to  an- 


A  FRIEND  ON  THE  ROAD 

swer  simply — Chad.  He  hesitated  now  and  his 
brow  wrinkled  as  though  he  were  thinking  hard. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Chad. 

"What  ?  Don't  know  your  own  name  ?"  The 
boy  looked  up  into  the  Major's  face  with  eyes  that 
were  so  frank  and  unashamed  and  at  the  same  time 
so  vaguely  troubled  that  the  Major  was  abashed. 

"Of  course  not,"  he  said  kindly,  as  though  it 
were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  a  boy 
should  not  know  his  own  name.  Presently  the  Ma 
jor  said,  reflectively: 

"Chadwick." 

"Chad,"  corrected  the  boy. 

"  Yes,  I  know";  and  the  Major  went  on  thinking 
that  Chadwick  happened  to  be  an  ancestral  name 
in  his  own  family. 

Chad's  brow  was  still  wrinkled — he  was  trying 
to  think  what  old  Nathan  Cherry  used  to  call  him. 

"I  reckon  I  hain't  thought  o'  my  name  since  I 
left  old  Nathan,"  he  said.  Then  he  told  briefly 
about  the  old  man,  and  lifting  his  lame  foot  sud 
denly,  he  said:  "Ouch!"  The  Major  looked 
around  and  Chad  explained: 

"I  hurt  my  foot  comin'  down  the  river  an'  hit 
got  wuss  walkin*  so  much."  The  Major  noticed 
then  that  the  boy's  face  was  pale,  and  that  there 
were  dark  hollows  under  his  eyes,  but  it  never 
occurred  to  him  that  the  lad  was  hungry,  for,  in 
the  Major's  land,  nobody  ever  went  hungry  for 


THE   LITTLE    SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

long.  But  Chad  was  suffering  now  and  he  leaned 
back  in  his  seat  and  neither  talked  nor  looked  at 
the  passing  fields.  By  and  by,  he  spied  a  cross 
roads  store. 

"I  wonder  if  I  can't  git  somethin*  to  eat  in  that 
store." 

The  Major  laughed:  "You  ain't  gettin'  hungry 
so  soon,  are  you  ?  You  must  have  eaten  breakfast 
pretty  early." 

"I  ain't  had  no  breakfast — an'  I  didn't  hev  no 
supper  last  night." 

"What  ?"  shouted  the  Major. 

Chad  stated  the  fact  with  brave  unconcern,  but 
his  lip  quivered  slightly — he  was  weak. 

"Well,  I  reckon  we'll  get  something  to  eat  there, 
whether  they've  got  anything  or  not." 

And  then  Chad  explained,  telling  the  story  of* 
his  walk  from  Frankfort.  The  Major  was  amazed 
that  anybody  could  have  denied  the  boy  food  and 
lodging. 

"Who  were  they,  Tom  ?"  he  asked. 

The  old  driver  turned: 

"They  wus  some  po'  white  trash  down  on  Cane 
Creek,  I  reckon,  suh.  Must  'a'  been."  There  was 
a  slight  contempt  in  the  negro's  words  that  made 
Chad  think  of  hearing  the  Turners  call  the  Dillons 
white  trash — though  they  never  said  "po'  white 
trash." 

"Oh!"  said  the  Major.  So  the  carriage  stopped, 
go 


A  FRIEND  ON  THE  ROAD 

and  when  a  man  in  a  black  slouch  hat  came  out,  the 
Major  called : 

"Jim,  here's  a  boy  who  ain't  had  anything  to 
eat  for  twenty-four  hours.  Get  him  a  cup  of  coffee 
right  away,  and  I  reckon  you've  got  some  cold  ham 
handy." 

"Yes,  indeed,  Major,"  said  Jim,  and  he  yelled 
to  a  negro  girl  who  was  standing  on  the  porch  of 
his  house  behind  the  store. 

Chad  ate  ravenously  and  the  Major  watched 
him  with  genuine  pleasure.  When  the  boy  was 
through,  he  reached  in  his  pocket  and  brought  out 
his  old  five-dollar  bill,  and  the  Major  laughed 
aloud  and  patted  him  on  the  head. 

"You  can't  pay  for  anything  while  you  are  with 
me,  Chad." 

The  whole  earth  wore  a  smile  when  they  started 
out  again.  The  swelling  hills  had  stretched  out 
into  gentler  slopes.  The  sun  was  warm,  the  clouds 
were  still,  and  the  air  was  almost  drowsy.  The 
Major's  eyes  closed  and  everything  lapsed  into  si 
lence.  That  was  a  wonderful  ride  for  Chad.  It 
was  all  true,  just  as  the  school-master  had  told  him; 
the  big,  beautiful  houses  he  saw  now  and  then  up 
avenues  of  blossoming  locusts;  the  endless  stone 
fences,  the  whitewashed  barns,  the  woodlands  and 
pastures;  the  meadow-larks  flitting  in  the  sunlight 
and  singing  everywhere;  fluting,  chattering  black 
birds,  and  a  strange  new  black  bird  with  red  wings, 

91 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

at  which  Chad  wondered  very  much,  as  he  watched 
it  balancing  itself  against  the  wind  and  singing  as 
it  poised.  Everything  seemed  to  sing  in  that  won 
derful  land.  And  the  seas  of  bluegrass  stretching 
away  on  every  side,  with  the  shadows  of  clouds 
passing  in  rapid  succession  over  them,  like  mystic 
floating  islands — and  never  a  mountain  in  sight. 
What  a  strange  country  it  was. 

"Maybe  some  of  your  friends  are  looking  for 
you  in  Frankfort,"  said  the  Major. 

"No,  sir,  I  reckon  not,"  said  Chad — for  the  man 
at  the  station  had  told  him  that  the  men  who  had 
asked  about  him  were  gone. 

"All  of  them  ?"  asked  the  Major. 

Of  course,  the  man  at  the  station  could  not  tell 
whether  all  of  them  had  gone,  and  perhaps  the 
school-master  had  stayed  behind — it  was  Caleb 
Hazel  if  anybody. 

"Well,  now,  I  wonder,"  said  Chad— "the 
school-teacher  might  'a'  stayed." 

Again  the  two  lapsed  into  silence — Chad  think 
ing  very  hard.  He  might  yet  catch  the  school-mas 
ter  in  Lexington,  and  he  grew  very  cheerful  at  the 
thought. 

"You  ain't  told  me  yo'  name,"  he  said,  presently. 
The  Major's  lips  smiled  under  the  brim  of  his  hat. 

"You  hain't  axed  me." 

"Well,  I  axe  you  now."     Chad,  too,  was  smiling. 

"Cal,"  said  the  Major. 
92 


A  FRIEND  ON  THE  ROAD 

"Calwhat?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do,  now — you  foolin*  me" — the 
boy  lifted  one  finger  at  the  Major. 

"Buford— Calvin  Buford." 

"Buford — Buford — Buford,"  repeated  the  boy, 
each  time  with  his  forehead  wrinkled  as  though  he 
were  trying  to  recall  something. 

"What  is  it,  Chad?" 

"Nothin'— nothinV 

And  then  he  looked  up  with  bewildered  face  at 
the  Major  and  broke  into  the  quavering  voice  of 
an  old  man. 

"Chad  Buford,  you  little  devil,  come  hyeh  this 
minute  or  I'll  beat  the  life  outen  you!" 

"What — what!"  said  the  Major  excitedly. 
The  boy's  face  was  as  honest  as  the  sky  above  him. 
"Well,  that's  funny — very  funny." 

"Well,  that's  it,"  said  Chad,  "that's  what  ole 
Nathan  used  to  call  me.  I  reckon  I  hain't  nuver 
thought  o'  my  name  agin  tell  you  axed  me."  The 
Major  looked  at  the  lad  keenly  and  then  dropped 
back  in  his  seat  ruminating. 

Away  back  in  1778  a  linchpin  had  slipped  in  a 
wagon  on  the  Wilderness  Road  and  his  grand 
father's  only  brother,  Chadwick  Buford,  had  con 
cluded  to  stop  there  for  a  while  and  hunt  and  come 
on  later — thus  ran  an  old  letter  that  the  Major 
had  in  his  strong  box  at  home — and  that  brother 

93 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

had  never  turned  up  again  and  the  supposition  was 
that  he  had  been  killed  by  Indians.  Now  it  would 
be  strange  if  he  had  wandered  up  in  the  mountains 
and  settled  there  and  if  this  boy  were  a  descendant 
of  his.  It  would  be  very,  very  strange,  and  then 
the  Major  almost  laughed  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
idea.  The  name  Buford  was  all  over  the  State. 
The  boy  had  said,  with  amazing  frankness  and 
without  a  particle  of  shame,  that  he  was  a  waif — 
a  "woodscolt,"  he  said,  with  paralyzing  candor, 
And  so  the  Major  dropped  the  matter  out  of  his 
mind,  except  in  so  far  that  it  was  a  peculiar  coin 
cidence — again  saying,  half  to  himself; 
"It  certainly  is  very  odd/' 


VIII 

HOME    WITH   THE    MAJOR 

A  HEAD  of  them,  it  was  Court  Day  in  Lexing- 
ton.  From  the  town,  as  a  centre,  white 
turnpikes  radiated  in  every  direction  like  the 
strands  of  a  spider's  web.  Along  them,  on  the  day 
before,  cattle^  sheep,  and  hogs  had  made  their  slow 
way.  Since  dawn,  that  morning,  the  fine  dust  had 
been  rising  under  hoof  and  wheel  on  every  one  of 
them,  for  Court  Day  is  yet  the  great  day  of  every 
month  throughout  the  Bluegrass.  The  crowd  had 
gone  ahead  of  the  Major  and  Chad.  Only  now 
and  then  would  a  laggard  buggy  or  carriage  turn 
into  the  pike  from  a  pasture-road  or  locust-bor 
dered  avenue.  Only  men  were  occupants,  for  the 
ladies  rarely  go  to  town  on  court  days — and  prob 
ably  none  would  go  on  that  day.  Trouble  was  ex 
pected.  An  abolitionist,  one  Brutus  Dean — not 
from  the  North,  but  a  Kentuckian,  a  slave-holder 
and  a  gentleman — would  probably  start  a  paper 
in  Lexington  to  exploit  his  views  in  the  heart  of 
the  Bluegrass;  and  his  quondam  friends  would 
shatter  his  press  and  tear  his  office  to  pieces.  So 
the  Major  told  Chad,  and  he  pointed  out  some 
"hands"  at  work  in  a  field. 

95 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

"An',  mark  my  words,  some  day  there's  goin' 
to  be  the  damnedest  fight  the  world  ever  saw  over 
these  very  niggers.  An'  the  day  ain't  so  far  away." 

It  was  noon  before  they  reached  the  big  cem 
etery  on  the  edge  of  Lexington.  Through  a  rift 
in  the  trees  the  Major  pointed  out  the  grave  of 
Henry  Clay,  and  told  him  about  the  big  monu 
ment  that  was  to  be  reared  above  his  remains.  The 
grave  of  Henry  Clay!  Chad  knew  all  about  him. 
He  had  heard  Caleb  Hazel  read  the  great  man's 
speeches  aloud  by  the  hour — had  heard  him  inton 
ing  them  to  himself  as  he  walked  the  woods  to  and 
fro  from  school.  Would  wonders  never  cease  ? 
There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  the  houses  and 
streets  and  people  in  this  big  town,  and  Chad  won 
dered  why  everybody  turned  to  look  at  him  and 
smiled,  and,  later  in  the  day,  he  came  near  getting 
into  a  fight  with  another  boy  who  seemed  to  be 
making  fun  of  him  to  his  companions.  He  won 
dered  at  that,  too,  until  it  suddenly  struck  him 
that  he  saw  nobody  else  carrying  a  rifle  and  wear 
ing  a  coonskin  cap — perhaps  it  was  his  cap  and  his 
gun.  The  Major  was  amused  and  pleased,  and  he 
took  a  certain  pride  in  the  boy's  calm  indifference 
to  the  attention  he  was  drawing  to  himself.  And 
he  enjoyed  the  little  mystery  which  he  and  his 
queer  little  companion  seemed  to  create  as  they 
drove  through  the  streets. 

On    one    corner    was    a    great    hemp    factory. 


HOME  WITH  THE  MAJOR 

Through  the  windows  Chad  could  see  negroes, 
dusty  as  millers,  bustling  about,  singing  as  they 
worked.  Before  the  door  were  two  men — one  on 
horseback.  The  Major  drew  up  a  moment. 

"  How  are  you,  John  ?  Howdye,  Dick  ?"  Both 
men  answered  heartily,  and  both  looked  at  Chad 
— who  looked  intently  at  them — the  graceful, 
powerful  man  on  foot  and  the  slender,  wiry  man 
with  wonderful  dark  eyes  on  horseback. 

"Pioneering,  Major?"  asked  John  Morgan. 

"This  is  a  namesake  of  mine  from  the  moun 
tains.  He's  come  up  to  see  the  settlements." 

Richard  Hunt  turned  on  his  horse.  "How  do 
you  like  'em  ?" 

"Never  seed  nothin'  like  'em  in  my  life,"  said 
Chad,  gravely.  Morgan  laughed  and  Richard 
Hunt  rode  on  with  them  down  the  street. 

"Was  that  Captin  Morgan  ?"  asked  Chad. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Major.  "Have  you  heard  of 
him  before  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  A  feller  on  the  road  tol'  me,  if  I 
was  lookin'  fer  somethin'  to  do  hyeh  in  Lexington 
to  go  to  Captin  Morgan." 

The  Major  laughed:  "That's  what  everybody 
does." 

At  once,  the  Major  took  the  boy  to  an  old 
inn  and  gave  him  a  hearty  meal;  and  while  the 
Major  attended  to  some  business,  Chad  roamed 
the  streets. 

97 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

"Don't  get  into  trouble,  my  boy,"  said  the 
Major,  "an5  come  back  here  an  hour  or  two  by 
sun." 

Naturally,  the  lad  drifted  where  the  crowd  was 
thickest — to  Cheapside.  Cheapside — at  once  the 
market-place  and  the  forum  of  the  Bluegrass  from 
pioneer  days  to  the  present  hour — the  platform 
that  knew  Clay,  Crittenden,  Marshall,  Brecken- 
ridge,  as  it  knows  the  lesser  men  of  to-day,  who 
resemble  those  giants  of  old  as  the  woodlands  of 
the  Bluegrass  to-day  resemble  the  primeval  forests 
from  which  they  sprang. 

Cheapside  was  thronged  that  morning  with  cat 
tle,  sheep,  hogs,  horses,  farmers,  aristocrats,  ne 
groes,  poor  whites.  The  air  was  a  babel  of  cries 
from  auctioneers — head,  shoulders,  and  waistband 
above  the  crowd — and  the  cries  of  animals  that 
were  changing  owners  that  day — one  of  which 
might  now  and  then  be  a  human  being.  The  Ma 
jor  was  busy,  and  Chad  wandered  w^here  he  pleased 
— keeping  a  sharp  lookout  everywhere  for  the 
school-master,  but  though  he  asked  right  and  left 
he  could  find  nobody,  to  his  great  wonder,  who 
knew  even  the  master's  name.  In  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  the  country  people  began  to  leave  town 
and  Cheapside  was  cleared,  but,  as  Chad  walked 
past  the  old  inn,  he  saw  a  crowd  gathered  within 
and  about  the  wide  doors  of  a  livery-stable,  and  in 
a  circle  outside  that  lapped  half  the  street.  The 


HOME  WITH  THE  MAJOR 

auctioneer  was  in  plain  sight  above  the  heads  of  the 
crowd,  and  the  horses  were  led  out  one  by  one  from 
the  stable.  It  was  evidently  a  sale  of  considerable 
moment,  and  there  were  horse-raisers,  horse- 
trainers,  jockeys,  stable-boys,  gentlemen — all  eager 
spectators  or  bidders.  Chad  edged  his  way 
through  the  outer  rim  of  the  crowd  and  to  the 
edge  of  the  sidewalk,  and,  when  a  spectator 
stepped  down  from  a  dry-goods  box  from  which  he 
had  been  looking  on,  Chad  stepped  up  and  took 
his  place.  Straightway,  he  began  to  wish  he  could 
buy  a  horse  and  ride  back  to  the  mountains.  What 
fun  that  would  be,  and  how  he  would  astonish  the 
folks  on  Kingdom  Come.  He  had  his  five  dollars 
still  in  his  pocket,  and  when  the  first  horse  was 
brought  out,  the  auctioneer  raised  his  hammer  and 
shouted  in  loud  tones: 

"  How  much  am  I  offered  for  this  horse  ?" 

There  was  no  answer,  and  the  silence  lasted  so 
long  that  before  he  knew  it  Chad  called  out  in  a 
voice  that  frightened  him: 

"Five  dollars!"  Nobody  heard  the  bid,  and 
nrbody  paid  any  attention  to  him. 

"One  hundred  dollars,"  said  a  voice. 

"One  hundred  and  twenty-five,"  said  another, 
and  the  horse  was  knocked  down  for  two  hundred 
dollars. 

A  black  stallion  with  curving  neck  and  red  nos 
trils  and  two  white  feet  walked  proudly  in. 

99 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

"How  much  am  I  offered  ?" 

"Five  dollars,"  said  Chad,  promptly.  A  man 
who  sat  near  heard  the  boy  and  turned  to  look  at 
the  little  fellow,  and  was  hardly  able  to  believe  his 
ears.  And  so  it  went  on.  Each  time  a  horse  was 
put  up  Chad  shouted  out: 

"Five  dollars,"  and  the  crowd  around  him  be 
gan  to  smile  and  laugh  and  encourage  him  and 
wait  for  his  bid.  The  auctioneer,  too,  saw  him, 
and  entered  into  the  fun  himself,  addressing  him 
self  to  Chad  at  every  opening  bid. 

"Keep  it  up,  little  man,"  said  a  voice  behind 
him.  "You'll  get  one  by  and  by."  Chad  looked 
around.  Richard  Hunt  was  smiling  to  him  from 
his  horse  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd. 

The  last  horse  was  a  brown  mare — led  in  by 
a  halter.  She  was  old  and  a  trifle  lame,  and  Chad, 
still  undispirited,  called  out  this  time  louder  than 
ever : 

"Five  dollars!" 

He  shouted  out  this  time  loudly  enough  to  be 
heard  by  everybody,  and  a  universal  laugh  rose; 
then  came  silence,  and,  in  that  silence,  an  imperi 
ous  voice  shouted  back: 

"Let  him  have  her!"  It  was  the  owner  of  the 
horse  who  spoke — a  tall  man  with  a  noble  face  and 
long  iron-gray  hair.  The  crowd  caught  his  mood, 
and  as  nobody  wanted  the  old  mare  very  much, 
and  the  owner  would  be  the  sole  loser,  nobody  bid 

100 


HOME  WITH  THE  MAJOR 

against  him,  and  Chad's  heart  thumped  when  the 
auctioneer  raised  his  hammer  and  said: 

"  Five  dollars,  five  dollars — what  am  I  offered  ? 
Five  dollars,  five  dollars,  going  at  five  dollars,  five 
dollars  —  going  at  five  dollars  —  going  —  going, 
last  bid,  gentlemen — gone!"  The  hammer  came 
down  with  a  blow  that  made  Chad's  heart  jump 
and  brought  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the  crowd. 

"What  is  the  name,  please  ?"  said  the  auctioneer, 
bending  forward  with  great  respect  and  dignity 
toward  the  diminutive  purchaser. 

"Chad." 

The  auctioneer  put  his  hand  to  one  ear: 

"I  beg  your  pardon — Dan'l  Boone  did  you 
say?" 

"No!"  shouted  Chad  indignantly — he  began  to 
feel  that  fun  was  going  on  at  his  expense.  "You 
heerd  me — Chad'* 

"Ah,  Mr.  Chad." 

Not  a  soul  knew  the  boy,  but  they  liked  his 
spirit,  and  several  followed  him  when  he  went  up 
and  handed  his  five  dollars  and  took  the  halter 
of  his  new  treasure — trembling  so  that  he  could 
scarcely  stand.  The  owner  of  the  horse  placed 
his  hand  on  the  little  fellow's  head. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  said,  and,  turning  to  a 
negro  boy:  "Jim,  go  bring  a  bridle."  The  boy 
brought  out  a  bridle,  and  the  tall  man  slipped  it  on 
the  old  mare's  head,  and  Chad  led  her  away — the 

101 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

crowd  watching  him.  Just  outside  he  saw  the  Ma 
jor,  whose  eyes  opened  wide: 

"  Where' d  you  get  that  old  horse,  Chad  ?" 

"Bought  her,"  said  Chad. 

"What  ?     What'd  you  give  for  her  ?" 

"Five  dollars." 

The  Major  looked  pained,  for  he  thought  the 
boy  was  lying,  but  Richard  Hunt  called  him  aside 
and  told  the  story  of  the  purchase;  and  then  how 
the  Major  did  laugh — laughed  until  the  tears 
rolled  down  his  face. 

And  then  and  there  he  got  out  of  his  carriage 
and  went  into  a  saddler's  shop  and  bought  a  brand- 
new  saddle  with  a  red  blanket,  and  put  it  on  the 
old  mare  and  hoisted  the  boy  to  his  seat.  Chad 
was  to  have  no  little  honor  in  his  day,  but  he  never 
knew  a  prouder  moment  than  when  he  clutched  the 
reins  in  his  left  hand  and  squeezed  his  short  legs 
against  the  fat  sides  of  that  old  brown  mare. 

He  rode  down  the  street  and  back  again,  and 
then  the  Major  told  him  he  had  better  put  the 
black  boy  on  the  mare,  to  ride  her  home  ahead  of 
him,  and  Chad  reluctantly  got  off  and  saw  the  lit 
tle  darky  on  his  new  saddle  and  his  new  horse. 

"Take  good  keer  o*  that  hoss,  boy,"  he  said, 
with  a  warning  shake  of  his  head,  and  again  the 
Major  roared. 

First,  the  Major  said,  he  would  go  by  the  old 
University  and  leave  word  with  the  faculty  for  the 

1 02 


HOME  WITH  THE  MAJOR 

school-master  when  he  should  come  there  to  ma 
triculate;  and  so,  at  a  turnstile  that  led  into  a 
mighty  green  yard  in  the  middle  of  which  stood  a 
huge  gray  mass  of  stone,  the  carriage  stopped,  and 
the  Major  got  out  and  walked  through  the  campus 
and  up  the  great  flight  of  stone  steps  and  disap 
peared.  The  mighty  columns,  the  stone  steps — 
where  had  Chad  heard  of  them  ?  And  then  the 
truth  flashed.  This  was  the  college  of  which  the 
school-master  had  told  him  down  in  the  mountains, 
and,  looking,  Chad  wanted  to  get  closer. 

"I  wonder  if  it'll  make  any  difference  if  I  go  up 
thar  ?"  he  said  to  the  old  driver. 

"No,"  the  old  man  hesitated — "no,  suh,  co'se 
not."  And  Chad  climbed  out  and  the  old  negro 
followed  him  with  his  eyes.  He  did  not  wholly 
approve  of  his  master's  picking  up  an  unknown  boy 
on  the  road.  It  was  all  right  to  let  him  ride,  but 
to  be  taking  him  home — old  Tom  shook  his  head. 

"Jess  wait  till  Miss  Lucy  sees  that  piece  o'  white 
trash,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head.  Chad  was  walk 
ing  slowly  with  his  eyes  raised.  It  must  be  the 
college  where  the  school-master  had  gone  to  school 
—for  the  building  was  as  big  as  the  cliff"  that  he 
had  pointed  out  down  in  the  mountains,  and  the 
porch  was  as  big  as  the  black  rock  that  he  pointed 
out  at  the  same  time — the  college  where  Caleb 
Hazel  said  Chad,  too,  must  go  some  day.  The 
Major  was  coming  out  when  the  boy  reached  the 

103 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

foot  of  the  steps,  and  with  him  was  a  tall,  gray 
man  with  spectacles  and  a  white  tie  and  very  white 
hands,  and  the  Major  said: 

"  There  he  is  now,  Professor."  And  the  Pro 
fessor  looked  at  Chad  curiously,  and  smiled  and 
smiled  again  kindly  when  he  saw  the  boy's  grave, 
unsmiling  eyes  fastened  on  him. 

Then,  out  of  the  town  and  through  the  late 
radiant  afternoon  they  went  until  the  sun  sank  and 
the  carriage  stopped  before  a  gate.  While  the 
pickaninny  was  opening  it,  another  carriage  went 
swiftly  behind  them,  and  the  Major  called  out 
cheerily  to  the  occupants — a  quiet,  sombre,  digni 
fied-looking  man  and  two  handsome  boys  and  a  lit 
tle  girl.  " They' re  my  neighbors,  Chad,"  said  the 
Major. 

Not  a  sound  did  the  wheels  make  on  the  thick 
turf  as  they  drove  toward  the  old-fashioned  brick 
house  (it  had  no  pillars),  with  its  windows  shining 
through  the  firs  and  cedars  that  filled  the  yard. 
The  Major  put  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder: 

"Well,  here  we  are,  little  man." 

At  the  yard  gate  there  was  a  great  barking  of 
dogs,  and  a  great  shout  of  welcome  from  the  ne 
groes  who  came  forward  to  take  the  horses.  To 
each  of  them  the  Major  gave  a  little  package, 
which  each  darky  took  with  shining  teeth  and  a 
laugh  of  delight — all  looking  with  wonder  at  the 
curious  little  stranger  with  his  rifle  and  coonskin 

104 


HOME  WITH  THE  MAJOR 

cap,  until  a  scowl  from  the  Major  checked  the 
smile  that  started  on  each  black  face.  Then  the 
Major  led  Chad  up  a  flight  of  steps  and  into  a  big 
hall  and  on  into  a  big  drawing-room,  where 
there  was  a  huge  fireplace  and  a  great  fire  that  gave 
Chad  a  pang  of  homesickness  at  once.  Chad  was 
not  accustomed  to  taking  off  his  hat  when  he  en 
tered  a  house  in  the  mountains,  but  he  saw  the  Ma 
jor  take  off  his,  and  he  dropped  his  own  cap  quickly. 
The  Major  sank  into  a  chair. 

"Here  we  are,  little  man,"  he  said,  kindly. 

Chad  sat  down  and  looked  at  the  books,  and 
the  portraits  and  prints,  and  the  big  mirrors  and 
the  carpets  on  the  floor,  none  of  which  he  had  ever 
seen  before,  and  he  wondered  at  it  all  and  what  it 
all  might  mean.  A  few  minutes  later,  a  tall  lady 
in  black,  with  a  curl  down  each  side  of  her  pale 
face,  came  in.  Like  old  Tom,  the  driver,  the  Ma 
jor,  too,  had  been  wondering  what  his  sister,  Miss 
Lucy,  would  think  of  his  bringing  so  strange  a  waif 
home,  and  now,  with  sudden  humor,  he  saw  him 
self  fortified. 

"Sister,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "here's  a  little  kins 
man  of  yours.  He's  a  great-great-grandson  of 
your  great-great-uncle — Chadwick  Buford.  That's 
his  name.  What  kin  does  that  make  us  ?" 

"Hush,  brother,"  said  Miss  Lucy,  for  she  saw 
the  boy  reddening  with  embarrassment  and  she 
went  across  and  shook  hands  with  him,  taking  in 

105 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

with  a  glance  his  coarse  strange  clothes  and  his 
soiled  hands  and  face  and  his  tangled  hair,  but 
pleased  at  once  with  his  shyness  and  his  dark  eyes. 
She  was  really  never  surprised  at  any  caprice  of 
her  brother,  and  she  did  not  show  much  interest 
when  the  Major  went  on  to  tell  where  he  had  found 
the  lad — for  she  would  have  thought  it  quite  pos 
sible  that  he  might  have  taken  the  boy  out  of  a 
circus.  As  for  Chad,  he  was  in  awe  of  her  at  once 
—  which  the  Major  noticed  with  an  inward 
chuckle,  for  the  boy  had  shown  no  awe  of  him. 
Chad  could  hardly  eat  for  shyness  at  supper  and 
because  everything  was  so  strange  and  beautiful, 
and  he  scarcely  opened  his  lips  when  they  sat 
around  the  great  fire,  until  Miss  Lucy  was  gone 
to  bed.  Then  he  told  the  Major  all  about  himself 
snd  old  Nathan  and  the  Turners  and  the  school 
master,  and  how  he  hoped  to  come  back  to  the 
Bluegrass,  and  go  to  that  big  college  himself,  and 
he  amazed  the  Major  when,  glancing  at  the  books, 
he  spelled  out  the  titles  of  two  of  Scott's  novels, 
"The  Talisman"  and  "  Ivanhoe,"  and  told  how  the 
school-master  had  read  them  to  him.  And  the  Ma 
jor,  who  had  a  passion  for  Sir  Walter,  tested 
Chad's  knowledge,  and  he  could  mention  hardly 
a  character  or  a  scene  in  the  two  books  that  did  not 
draw  an  excited  response  from  the  boy. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  stay  here  in  the  Bluegrass 
now  and  go  to  school  ? " 

1 06 


HOME  WITH  THE  MAJOR 

Chad's  eyes  lighted  up. 

"I  reckon  I  would;  but  how  am  I  goin*  to 
school,  now,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  I  ain't  got  no  money 
to  buy  books,  and  the  school-teacher  said  you  have 
to  pay  to  go  to  school,  up  here." 

"Well,  we'll  see  about  that,"  said  the  Major, 
and  Chad  wondered  what  he  meant.  Presently  the 
Major  got  up  and  went  to  the  sideboard  and 
poured  out  a  drink  of  whiskey  and,  raising  it  to  his 
lips,  stopped: 

"Will  you  join  me?"  he  asked,  humorously, 
though  it  was  hard  for  the  Major  to  omit  that 
formula  even  with  a  boy. 

"  I  don't  keer  if  I  do,"  said  Chad,  gravely.  The 
Major  was  astounded  and  amused,  and  thought 
that  the  boy  was  not  in  earnest,  but  he  handed  him 
the  bottle  and  Chad  poured  out  a  drink  that  stag 
gered  his  host,  and  drank  it  down  without  wink 
ing.  At  the  fire,  the  Major  pulled  out  his  chewing- 
tobacco.  This,  too,  he  offered  and  Chad  accepted, 
equalling  the  Major  in  the  accuracy  with  which  he 
reached  the  fireplace  thereafter  with  the  juice,  car 
rying  off  his  accomplishment,  too,  with  perfect  and 
unconscious  gravity.  The  Major  was  nigh  to  split 
ting  with  silent  laughter  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  he  grew  grave. 

"Does  everybody  drink  and  chew  down  in  the 
mountains  ?" 

107 


THE   LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Chad.  "Everybody  makes  his 
own  licker  where  I  come  from." 

"  Don't  you  know  it's  very  bad  for  little  boys  to 
drink  and  chew  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Did  nobody  ever  tell  you  it  was  very  bad  for 
little  boys  to  drink  and  chew  ?" 

"No,  sir" — not  once  had  Chad  forgotten  that 
"sir." 

"Well,  it  is." 

Chad  thought  for  a  minute.  "Will  it  keep  me 
from  gittin'  to  be  a  big  man  ?" 

"Yes." 

Chad  quietly  threw  his  quid  into  the  fire. 

"Well,  I  be  damned,"  said  the  Major  under  his 
breath.  "Are  you  goin'  to  quit  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Meanwhile,  the  old  driver,  whose  wife  lived  on 
the  next  farm,  was  telling  the  servants  over  there 
about  the  queer  little  stranger  whom  his  master 
had  picked  up  on  the  road  that  day,  and  after  Chad 
was  gone  to  bed,  the  Major  got  out  some  old  letters 
from  a  chest  and  read  them  over  again.  Chad- 
wick  Buford  was  his  great-grandfather's  twin 
brother,  and  not  a  word  had  been  heard  of  him 
since  the  two  had  parted  that  morning  on  the  old 
Wilderness  Road,  away  back  in  the  earliest  pio 
neer  days.  So,  the  Major  thought  and  thought 
— "suopose — suppose—  And  at  last  he  got  up 

1 08 


HOME  WITH  THE  MAJOR 

and  with  an  uplifted  candle,  looked  a  long  while  at 
the  portrait  of  his  grandfather  that  hung  on  the 
southern  wall.  Then,  with  a  sudden  humor,  he 
carried  the  light  to  the  room  where  the  boy  was 
in  sound  sleep,  with  his  head  on  one  sturdy  arm, 
his  hair  loose  on  the  pillow,  and  his  lips  slightly 
parted  and  showing  his  white,  even  teeth;  he 
looked  at  the  boy  a  long  time  and  fancied  he  could 
see  some  resemblance  to  the  portrait  in  the  set  of  the 
mouth  and  the  nose  and  the  brow,  and  he  went 
back  smiling  at  his  fancies  and  thinking — for  the 
Major  was  sensitive  to  the  claim  of  any  drop  of 
the  blood  in  his  own  veins — no  matter  how  diluted. 
He  was  a  handsome  little  chap. 

"How  strange!     How  strange!" 

And  he  smiled  when  he  thought  of  the  boy's  last 
question. 

"Where's  yo'  mammy?" 

It  had  stirred  the  Major. 

"I  am  like  you,  Chad,"  he  had  said.  "I've  got 
no  mammy — no  nothin',  except  Miss  Lucy,  and 
she  don't  live  here.  I'm  afraid  she  won't  be  on 
this  earth  long.  t  Nobody  lives  here  but  me,  Chad." 


109 


IX 

MARGARET 

*  I  AHE  Major  was  in  town  and  Miss  Lucy  had 
gone  to  spend  the  day  with  a  neighbor;  so 
Chad  was  left  alone. 

"Look  aroun',  Chad,  and  see  how  you  like 
things,"  said  the  Major.  "Go  anywhere  you 
please." 

And  Chad  looked  around.  He  went  to  the 
barn  to  see  his  old  mare  and  the  Major's  horses, 
and  to  the  kennels,  where  the  fox-hounds  reared 
against  the  palings  and  sniffed  at  him  curiously; 
he  strolled  about  the  quarters,  where  the  little  pick 
aninnies  were  playing,  and  out  to  the  fields,  where 
the  servants  were  at  work  under  the  overseer,  Je 
rome  Conners,  a  tall,  thin  man  with  shrewd  eyes,  a 
sour,  sullen  face,  and  protruding  upper  teeth.  One 
of  the  few  smiles  that  ever  came  to  that  face  came 
now  when  the  overseer  saw  the  little  mountaineer. 
By  and  by  Chad  got  one  of  the  "hands"  to  let  him 
take  hold  of  the  plough  and  go  once  around  the 
field,  and  the  boy  handled  the  plough  like  a  vet 
eran,  so  that  the  others  watched  him,  and  the  negro 
grinned,  when  he  came  back,  and  said: 

"You  sutinly  can  plough  fer  a  fac'!" 

IIO 


MARGARET 

He  was  lonesome  by  noon  and  had  a  lonely  din 
ner,  during  which  he  could  scarcely  realize  that  it 
was  really  he — Chad — Chad  sitting  up  at  the  ta 
ble  alone  and  being  respectfully  waited  on  by  a 
kinky-headed  little  negro  girl — called  Thanky- 
ma'am  because  she  was  born  on  Thanksgiving  day 
— and  he  wondered  what  the  Turners  would  think 
if  they  could  see  him  now — and  the  school-master. 
Where  was  the  school-master  ?  He  began  to  be 
sorry  that  he  hadn't  gone  to  town  to  try  to  find 
him.  Perhaps  the  Major  would  see  him — but 
how  would  the  Major  know  th'e  school-master  ? 
He  was  sorry  he  hadn't  gone.  After  dinner  he 
started  out-doors  again.  Earth  and  sky  were  ra 
diant  with  light.  Great  white  tumbling  clouds 
were  piled  high  all  around  the  horizon — and  what 
a  long  length  of  sky  it  was  in  every  direction! 
Down  in  the  mountains,  he  had  to  look  straight 
up,  sometimes,  to  see  the  sky  at  all.  Blackbirds 
chattered  in  the  cedars  as  he  went  to  the  yard  gate. 
The  field  outside  was  full  of  singing  meadow-larks, 
and  crows  were  cawing  in  the  woods  beyond. 
There  had  been  a  light  shower,  and  on  the  dead 
top  of  a  tall  tree  he  saw  a  buzzard  stretching  his 
wings  out  to  the  sun.  Past  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
ran  a  little  stream  with  banks  that  were  green  to 
the  very  water's  edge,  and  Chad  followed  it  on 
through  the  woods,  over  a  worm  rail-fence,  along 
a  sprouting  wheat-field,  out  into  a  pasture  in  which 

in 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

sheep  and  cattle  were  grazing,  and  on,  past  a  little 
hill,  where,  on  the  next  low  slope,  sat  a  great  white 
house  with  big  white  pillars,  and  Chad  climbed  on 
top  of  the  stone  fence — and  sat,  looking.  On  the 
portico  stood  a  tall  man  in  a  slouch  hat  and  a 
lady  in  black.  At  the  foot  of  the  steps  a  boy 
— a  head  taller  than  Chad  perhaps — was  rig 
ging  up  a  fishing-pole.  A  negro  boy  was  lead 
ing  a  black  pony  toward  the  porch,  and,  to  his 
dying  day,  Chad  never  forgot  the  scene  that  fol 
lowed.  For,  the  next  moment,  a  little  figure  in 
a  long  riding-skirt  stood  in  the  big  doorway  and 
then  ran  down  the  steps,  while  a  laugh,  as  joyous 
as  the  water  running  at  his  feet,  floated  down  the 
slope  to  his  ears.  He  saw  the  negro  stoop,  the  little 
girl  bound  lightly  to  her  saddle;  he  saw  her  black 
curls  shake  in  the  sunlight,  again  the  merry  laugh 
tinkled  in  his  ears,  and  then,  with  a  white  plume 
nodding  from  her  black  cap,  she  galloped  off  and 
disappeared  among  the  trees;  and  Chad  sat  looking 
after  her — thrilled,  mysteriouisly  thrilled — myste 
riously  saddened,  straightway.  Would  he  ever  see 
her  again  ? 

The  tall  man  and  the  lady  in  black  went  in-doors, 
the  negro  disappeared,  and  the  boy  at  the  foot  of 
the  steps  kept  on  rigging  his  pole.  Several  times 
voices  sounded  under  the  high  creek  bank  below 
him,  but,  quick  as  his  ears  were,  Chad  did  not  hear 
them.  Suddenly  there  was  a  cry  that  startled  him, 

112 


MARGARET 

and  something  flashed  in  the  sun  over  the  edge  of 
the  bank  and  flopped  in  the  grass. 

"Snowball!"  an  imperious  young  voice  called 
below  the  bank,  "get  that  fish!" 

On  the  moment  Chad  was  alert  again — some 
body  was  fishing  down  there — and  he  sprang  from 
his  perch  and  ran  toward  the  fish  just  as  a  woolly 
head  and  a  jet-black  face  peeped  over  the  bank. 

The  pickaninny's  eyes  were  stretched  wide  when 
he  saw  the  strange  figure  in  coonskin  cap  and 
moccasins  running  down  on  him,  his  face  almost 
blanched  with  terror,  and  he  loosed  his  hold  and, 
with  a  cry  of  fright,  rolled  back  out  of  sight.  Chad 
looked  over  the  bank.  A  boy  of  his  own  age  was 
holding  another  pole,  and,  hearing  the  little  darky 
slide  down,  he  said,  sharply: 

"Get  that  fish,  I  tell  you!" 

"Look  dar,  Mars'  Dan,  look  dar!" 

The  boy  looked  around  and  up  and  stared  with 
as  much  wonder  as  his  little  body-servant,  but  with 
no  fear. 

"  Howdye ! "  said  Chad ;  but  the  white  boy  stared 
on  silently. 

"Fishin'?"  said  Chad. 

"Yes,"  said  Dan,  shortly  —  he  had  shown 
enough  curiosity  and  he  turned  his  eyes  to  his  cork. 
"Get  that  fish,  Snowball,"  he  said  again. 

"I'll  git  him  fer  ye,"  Chad  said;  and  he  went 
to  the  fish  and  unhooked  it  and  came  down  the  bank 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

with  the  perch  in  one  hand  and  the  pole  in  the 
other. 

"  Whar's  yo'  string  ?"  he  asked,  handing  the  pole 
to  the  still  trembling  little  darky. 

"I'll  take  it,"  said  Dan,  sticking  the  butt  of  his 
cane-pole  in  the  mud.  The  fish  slipped  through  his 
wet  fingers,  when  Chad  passed  it  to  him,  dropped 
on  the  bank,  flopped  to  the  edge  of  the  creek,  and 
the  three  boys,  with  the  same  cry,  scrambled  for  it 
— Snowball  falling  down  on  it  and  clutching  it  in 
both  his  black  little  paws. 

"Dar  now!"  he  shrieked.     "I  got  him!" 

"Give  him  to  me,"  said  Dan. 

"Lemme  string  him,"  said  the  black  boy. 

"Give  him  to  me,  I  tell  you!"  And,  stringing 
the  fish,  Dan  took  the  other  pole  and  turned  his 
eyes  to  his  corks,  while  the  pickaninny  squatted  be 
hind  him  and  Chad  climbed  up  and  sat  on  the  bank 
— letting  his  legs  dangle  over.  When  Dan  caught 
a  fish  he  would  fling  it  with  a  whoop  high  over  the 
bank.  After  the  third  fish,  the  lad  was  mollified 
and  got  over  his  ill-temper.  He  turned  to  Chad: 

"Want  to  fish?" 

Chad  sprang  down  the  bank  quickly. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  and  he  took  the  other  pole  out 
of  the  bank,  put  on  a  fresh  wriggling  worm,  and 
moved  a  little  farther  down  the  creek  where  there 
was  an  eddy. 

"Ketchin'  any?"  said  a  voice  above  the  bank' 
114 


MARGARET 

and  Chad  looked  up  to  see  still  another  lad,  taller 
by  a  head  than  either  he  or  Dan — evidently  the  boy 
whom  he  had  seen  rigging  a  pole  up  at  the  big 
house  on  the  hill. 

"Oh,  'bout  'leven,"  said  Dan,  carelessly. 

"Howdye!"  said  Chad. 

"Howdye!"  said  the  other  boy,  and  he,  too, 
stared  curiously,  but  Chad  had  got  used  to  people 
staring  at  him. 

"I'm  goin'  over  the  big  rock,"  added  the  new 
arrival,  and  he  went  down  the  creek  and  climbed 
around  a  steep  little  cliff,  and  out  on  a  huge  rock 
that  hung  over  the  creek,  where  he  dropped  his 
hook.  He  had  no  cork,  and  Chad  knew  that  he 
was  trying  to  catch  catfish.  Presently  he  jerked, 
and  a  yellow  mudcat  rose  to  the  surface,  fighting 
desperately  for  his  life,  and  Dan  and  Snowball 
yelled  crazily.  Then  Dan  pulled  out  a  perch. 

"I  got  another  one,"  he  shouted.  And  Chad 
fished  silently.  They  were  making  "a  mighty  big 
fuss,"  he  thought,  "over  mighty  little  fish.  If  he 
just  had  a  minnow  an'  had  'em  down  in  the  moun 
tains,  T  Connies,  he'd  show  'em  what  fishin'  was!" 
But  he  began  to  have  good  luck  as  it  was.  Perch 
after  perch  he  pulled  out  quietly,  and  he  kept  Snow 
ball  busy  stringing  them  until  he  had  five  on  the 
string.  The  boy  on  the  rock  was  watching  him 
and  so  was  the  boy  near  him — furtively — while 
Snowball's  admiration  was  won  completely,  and  he 

"5 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

grinned  and  gurgled  his  delight,  until  Dan  lost  his 
temper  again  and  spoke  to  him  sharply.  Dan  did 
not  like  to  be  beaten  at  anything.  Pretty  soon 
there  was  a  light  thunder  of  hoofs  on  the  turf 
above  the  bank.  A  black  pony  shot  around  the 
bank  and  was  pulled  in  at  the  edge  of  the  ford,  and 
Chad  was  looking  into  the  dancing  black  eyes  of  a 
little  girl  with  a  black  velvet  cap  on  her  dark  curls 
and  a  white  plume  waving  from  it. 

"Howdye!"  said  Chad,  and  his  heart  leaped 
curiously,  but  the  little  girl  did  not  answer.  She, 
too,  stared  at  him  as  all  the  others  had  done  and 
started  to  ride  into  the  creek,  but  Dan  stopped  her 
sharply: 

"Now,  Margaret,  don't  you  ride  into  that  wa 
ter.  You'll  skeer  the  fish." 

"No,  you  won't,"  said  Chad,  promptly.  "Fish 
don't  keer  nothin'  about  a  hoss."  But  the  little 
girl  stood  still,  and  her  brother's  face  flushed.  He 
resented  the  stranger's  interference  and  his  assump 
tion  of  a  better  knowledge  of  fish. 

"Mind  your  own  business,"  trembled  on  his 
tongue,  and  the  fact  that  he  held  the  words  back 
only  served  to  increase  his  ill-humor  and  make  a 
worse  outbreak  possible.  But,  if  Chad  did  not  un 
derstand,  Snowball  did,  and  his  black  face  grew 
suddenly  grave  as  he  sprang  more  alertly  than 
ever  at  any  word  from  his  little  master.  Mean 
while,  all  unconscious,  Chad  fished  on,  catching 

116 


MARGARET 

perch  after  perch,  but  he  could  not  keep  his  eyes 
on  his  cork  while  the  little  girl  was  so  near,  and 
more  than  once  he  was  warned  by  a  suppressed 
cry  from  the  pickaninny  when  to  pull.  Once,  when 
he  was  putting  on  a  worm,  he  saw  the  little  girl 
watching  the  process  with  great  disgust,  and  he 
remembered  that  Melissa  would  never  bait  her 
own  hook.  All  girls  were  alike,  he  "reckoned" 
to  himself,  and  when  he  caught  a  fish  that  was 
unusually  big,  he  walked  over  to  her. 

"  I'll  give  this  un  to  you,"  he  said,  but  she  shrank 
from  it. 

"Go  'way!'*  she  said,  and  she  turned  her  pony. 
Dan  was  red  in  the  face  by  this  time.  How  did 
this  piece  of  poor  white  trash  dare  to  offer  a  fish  to 
his  sister  ?  And  this  time  the  words  came  out  like 
the  crack  of  a  whip: 

"S'pose  you  mind  your  own  business!" 

Chad  started  as  though  he  had  been  struck  and 
looked  around  quickly.  He  said  nothing,  but  he 
stuck  the  butt  of  his  pole  in  the  mud  at  once  and 
climbed  up  on  the  bank  again  and  sat  there,  with 
his  legs  hanging  over;  and  his  own  face  was  not 
pleasant  to  see.  The  little  girl  was  riding  at  a 
walk  up  the  road.  Chad  kept  perfect  silence,  for 
he  realized  that  he  had  not  been  minding  his  own 
business;  still  he  did  not  like  to  be  told  so  and  in 
such  a  way.  Both  corks  were  shaking  at  the  same 
time  now. 

117 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"You  got  a  bite,"  said  Dan,  but  Chad  did  not 
move. 

"You  got  a  bite,  I  tell  you,"  he  said,  in  almost 
the  tone  he  had  used  to  Snowball,  but  Chad, 
when  the  small  aristocrat  looked  sharply  around, 
dropped  his  elbows  to  his  knees  and  his  chin  into 
his  hand — taking  no  notice.  Once  he  spat  dex 
terously  into  the  creek.  Dan's  own  cork  was  going 
under: 

"Snowball!"  he  cried— "jerk!"  A  fish  flew 
over  Chad's  head.  Snowball  had  run  for  the  other 
pole  at  command  and  jerked,  too,  but  the  fish  was 
gone  and  with  it  the  bait. 

"You  lost  that  fish!"  said  the  boy,  hotly,  but 
Chad  sat  silent — still.  If  he  would  only  say  some 
thing!  Dan  began  to  think  that  the  stranger  was 
a  coward.  So  presently,  to  show  what  a  great  little 
man  he  was,  he  began  to  tease  Snowball,  who  was 
up  on  the  bank  unhooking  the  fish,  of  which  Chad 
had  taken  no  notice. 

"What's  your  name?" 

"Snowball!"  shouted  the  black  little  henchman, 
obediently. 

"Louder!" 

"S-n-o-w-b-a-l-l-!" 

"Louder!"  The  little  black  fellow  opened  his 
mouth  wide. 

-S-N-O-W-B-A-L-L!"  he  shrieked. 

"LOUDER!" 

118 


MARGARET 

At  last  Chad  spoke — quietly. 

"He  can't  holler  no  louder." 

"What  do  you  know  about  it?  Louder!"  and 
Dan  started  menacingly  after  the  little  darky:  but 
Chad  stepped  between. 

"Don't  hit  him!" 

Now  Dan  had  never  struck  Snowball  in  his  life, 
and  he  would  as  soon  have  struck  his  own  brother 
—but  he  must  not  be  told  that  he  couldn't.  His 
face  flamed  and  little  Hotspur  that  he  was,  he  drew 
his  fist  back  and  hit  Chad  full  in  the  chest.  Chad 
leaped  back  to  avoid  the  blow,  tumbling  Snowball 
down  the  bank;  the  two  clinched,  and,  while  they 
tussled,  Chad  heard  the  other  brother  clambering 
-over  the  rocks,  the  beat  of  hoofs  coming  toward 
him  on  the  turf,  and  the  little  girl's  cry: 

"Don't  you  dare  touch  my  brother!" 

Both  went  down  side  by  side  with  their  heads 
just  hanging  over  the  bank,  where  both  could  see 
Snowball's  black  wool  coming  to  the  surface  in  the 
deep  hole,  and  both  heard  his  terrified  shriek  as  he 
went  under  again.  Chad  was  first  to  his  feet. 

"Git  a  rail!"  he  shouted  and  plunged  in,  but 
Dan  sprang  in  after  him.  In  three  strokes,  for 
the  current  was  rather  strong,  Chad  had  the  kinky 
wool  in  his  hand,  and,  in  a  few  strokes  more,  the 
two  boys  had  Snowball  gasping  on  the  bank. 
Harry,  the  taller  brother,  ran  forward  to  help  them 
carry  him  up  the  bank,  and  they  laid  him,  choking 

119 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

and  bawling,  on  the  grass.  Whip  in  one  hand  and 
with  the  skirt  of  her  long  black  riding-habit  in  the 
other,  the  little  girl  stood  above,  looking  on — • 
white  and  frightened.  The  hullabaloo  had  reached 
the  house  and  General  Dean  was  walking  swiftly 
down  the  hill,  with  Snowball's  mammy,  topped  by 
a  red  bandanna  handkerchief,  rushing  after  him 
and  the  kitchen  servants  following. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  said,  sternly,  and 
Chad  was  in  a  strange  awe  at  once — he  was  so 
tall,  and  he  stood  so  straight,  and  his  eye  was  so 
piercing.  Few  people  could  lie  into  that  eye.  The 
little  girl  spoke  first — usually  she  does  speak  first, 
as  well  as  last. 

"Dan  and — and — that  boy  were  fighting  and 
they  pushed  Snowball  into  the  creek." 

"  Dan  was  teasin'  Snowball,"  said  Harry  the  just. 

"And  that  boy  meddled,"  said  Dan. 

"Who  struck  first?"  asked  the  General,  looking 
from  one  boy  to  the  other.  Dan  dropped  his  eyes 
sullenly  and  Chad  did  not  answer. 

"I  wasn't  goin'  to  hit  Snowball,"  said  Dan. 

"I  thought  you  wus,"  said  Chad. 

"Who  struck  first  ?"  repeated  the  General,  look 
ing  at  Dan  now. 

'That  boy  meddled  and  I  hit  him." 

Chad  turned  and  answered  the  General's  eyes 
steadily. 

"I  reckon  1  had  no  business  meddlin'!" 
120 


MARGARET 

"  He  tried  to  give  sister  a  fish/' 

That  was  unwise  in  Dan — Margaret's  chin 
lifted. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "that  was  it,  too,  was  it? 
Well- 

"I  didn't  see  no  harm  givin'  the  little  gal  a  fish," 
said  Chad.  "Little  gal,"  indeed'!  Chad  lost  the 
ground  he  might  have  gained.  Margaret's  eyes 
looked  all  at  once  like  her  father's. 

"  I'm  a  little  girl,  thank  you." 

Chad  turned  to  her  father  now,  looking  him  in 
the  face  straight  and  steadily. 

"I  reckon  I  had  no  business  meddlin',  but  I 
•didn't  think  hit  was  fa'r  fer  him  to  hit  the  nigger; 
the  nigger  was  littler,  an'  I  didn't  think  hit  was 
right." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  hit  him — I  was  only  playin'!" 

"  But  I  thought  you  was  goin'  to  hit  him,"  said 
Chad.  He  looked  at  the  General  again.  "But  I 
had  no  business  meddlin'."  And  he  picked  up  his 
old  coonskin  cap  from  the  grass  to  start  away. 

"Hold  on,  little  man,"  said  the  General. 

"Dan,  haven't  I  told  you  not  to  tease  Snow 
ball  ?"  Dan  dropped  his  eyes  again. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  struck  first,  and  this  boy  says  he  oughtn't 
to  have  meddled,  but  I  think  he  did  just  right. 
Have  you  anything  to  say  to  him  ?"  Dan  worked 
the  toe  of  his  left  boot  into  the  turf  for  a  m@men<- 

121 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  go  up  to  your  room  and  think  about  it 
awhile  and  see  if  you  don't  owe  somebody  an 
apology.  Hurry  up  now  an'  change  your  clothes. 
You'd  better  come  up  to  the  house  and  get  some 
dry  clothes  for  yourself,  my  boy,"  he  added  to 
Chad.  "You'll  catch  cold." 

"Much  obleeged,"  said  Chad.  "But  I  don't 
ketch  cold." 

He  put  on  his  old  coonskin  cap,  and  then  the 
General  recognized  him. 

"Why,  aren't  you  the  little  boy  who  bought  a 
horse  from  me  in  town  the  other  day  ?"  And  then 
Chad  recognized  him  as  the  tall  man  who  had  cried 
out: 

"Let  him  have  her." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  I  know  all  about  you,"  said  the  Genera?,, 
kindly.  "You  are  staying  with  Major  Buford. 
He's  a  great  friend  and  neighbor  of  mine.  Now 
you  must  come  up  and  get  sdme  clothes,  Harry!" 
—But  Chad,  though  he  hesitated,  for  he  knew  now 
that  the  gentleman  had  practically  given  him  the 
old  mare,  interrupted,  sturdily, 

"No,  sir,  I  can't  go — not  while  he's  a-feelin' 
hard  at  me." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  General,  gravely.  Chad 
started  off  on  a  trot  and  stopped  suddenly. 

"I  wish  you'd  please  tell  that  little  gurl" — 
122 


MARGARET 

Chad  pronounced  the  word  with  some  difficulty 
— "that  I  didn't  mean  nothin'  callin'  her  a  little 
gal.  Ever'body  calls  gurls  gals  whar  I  com*7 
from." 

"All  right,"  laughed  the  General.  Chad  trot 
ted  all  the  way  home  and  there  Miss  Lucy  made 
him  take  off  his  wet  clothes  at  once,  though  the  boy 
had  to  go  to  bed  while  they  were  drying,  for  he 
had  no  other  clothes,  and  while  he  lay  in  bed  the 
Major  came  up  and  listened  to  Chad's  story  of  the 
afternoon,  which  Chad  told  him  word  for  word 
just  as  it  had  all  happened. 

"You  did  just  right,  Chad,"  said  the  Major,  and 
he  went  down  the  stairs,  chuckling: 

"Wouldn't  go  in  and  get  dry  clothes  because 
Dan  wouldn't  apologize.  Dear  me!  I  reckon 
they'll  have  it  out  when  they  see  each  other  again. 
I'd  like  to  be  on  hand,  and  I'd  bet  my  bottom  dol 
lar  on  Chad."  But  they  did  not  have  it  out.  Half 
an  hour  after  supper  somebody  shouted  "Hello!" 
at  the  gate,  and  the  Major  went  out  and  came  back 
smiling. 

"Somebody  wants  to  see  you,  Chad/*  he  said. 
And  Chad  went  out  and  found  Dan  there  on  the 
black  pony  with  Snowball  behind  him. 

"I've  come  over  to  say  that  I  had  no  business 
hittin'  you  down  at  the  creek,  and — "  Chad  in 
terrupted  him: 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said,  and  Dan  stopped 


THE   LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

and  thrust  out  his  hand.     The  two  boys  shook 
hands  gravely. 

"An'  my  papa  says  you  are  a  man  an'  he  wants 
you  to  come  over  and  see  us  and  I  want  you — and 
Harry  and  Margaret.  We  all  want  you." 

"All  right,"  said  Chad.  Dan  turned  his  black 
pony  and  galloped  off. 

"An'  come  soon!"  he  shouted  back. 

Out  in  the  quarters  Mammy  Ailsie,  old  Tom's 
wife,  was  having  her  own  say  that  night. 

"Ole  Marse  Cal  Buford  pickin'  a  piece  o'  white 
trash  out  de  gutter  an*  not  sayin*  whar  he  come 
from  an'  nuttin'  'bout  him.  An'  old  Mars  Henry 
takin'  him  jus'  like  he  was  quality.  My  Tom  say 
dat  boy  don'  know  who  is  his  mammy  ner  his 
daddy.  I  ain'  gwine  to  let  my  little  mistis  play  wid 
no  sech  trash,  I  tell  you — 'deed  I  ain't!"  And  this 
talk  would  reach  the  drawing-room  by  and  by, 
where  the  General  was  telling  the  family,  at  just 
about  the  same  hour,  the  story  of  the  horse  sale 
and  Chad's  purchase  of  the  old  brood  mare. 

"I  knew  where  he  was  from  right  away,"  said 
Harry.  "I've  seen  mountain-people  wearing  caps 
like  his  up  at  Uncle  Brutus's,  when  they  come  down 
to  go  to  Richmond." 

The  General  frowned. 

"Well,  you  won't  <see  any  more  people  like  him 
up  there  again." 

"Why,  papa?" 

124 


MARGARET 

"Because  you  aren't  going  to  Uncle  Brutus' s 
any  more/' 

"Why,  papa?" 

The  mother  put  her  hand  on  her  husband's 
knee. 

"Never  mind,  son,"  she  said. 


THE    BLUEGRASS 

Country! 

No  humor  in  that  phrase  to  the  Blue- 
grass  Kentuckian!  There  never  was — there  is 
none  now.  To  him,  the  land  seems  in  all  the  New 
World,  to  have  been  the  pet  shrine  of  the  Great 
Mother  herself.  She  fashioned  it  with  loving 
hands.  She  shut  it  in  with  a  mighty  barrier  of 
mighty  mountains  to  keep  the  mob  out.  She  gave 
it  the  loving  clasp  of  a  mighty  river,  and  spread 
broad,  level  prairies  beyond  that  the  mob  might 
glide  by,  or  be  tempted  to  the  other  side,  where 
the  earth  was  level  and  there  was  no  need  to  climb: 
that  she  might  send  priests  from  her  shrine  to  re 
claim  Western  wastes  or  let  the  weak  or  the  unlov 
ing — if  such  could  be — have  easy  access  to  another 
land. 

In  the  beginning,  such  was  her  clear  purpose  to 
the  Kentuckian's  eye,  she  filled  it  with  flowers  and 
grass  and  trees,  and  fish  and  bird  and  wild  beast, 
just  as  she  made  Eden  for  Adam  and  Eve.  The 
red  men  fought  for  the  Paradise — fought  till  it 
was  drenched  with  blood,  but  no  tribe,  without  a 

126 


THE  BLUEGRASS 

mortal  challenge  from  another  straightway,  could 
ever  call  a  rood  its  own.  Boone  loved  the  land 
from  the  moment  the  eagle  eye  in  his  head  swept 
its  shaking  wilderness  from  a  mountain-top,  and 
every  man  who  followed  him  loved  the  land  no 
less.  And  when  the  chosen  came,  they  found  the 
earth  ready  to  receive  them — lifted  above  the 
baneful  breath  of  river-bottom  and  marshland, 
drained  by  rivers  full  of  fish,  filled  with  woods  full 
of  game,  and  underlaid — all — with  thick,  blue, 
limestone  strata  that,  like  some  divine  agent  work 
ing  in  the  dark,  kept  crumbling — ever  crumbling 
—to  enrich  the  soil  and  give  bone-building  virtue 
to  every  drop  of  water  and  every  blade  of  grass. 
For  those  chosen  people — such,  too,  seemed  her 
purpose — the  Mother  went  to  the  race  upon  whom 
she  had  smiled  a  benediction  for  a  thousand  years 
—the  race  that  obstacle  but  strengthens,  that 
thrives  best  under  an  alien  effort  to  kill,  that  has 
ever  conquered  its  conquerors,  and  that  seems  bent 
on  the  task  of  carrying  the  best  ideals  any  age  has 
ever  known  back  to  the  Old  World  from  which  it 
sprang.  The  Great  Mother  knows!  Knows  that 
her  children  must  suffer,  if  they  stray  too  far  from  her 
great  teeming  breasts.  And  how  she  has  followed 
close  when  this  Saxon  race — her  youngest  born — 
seemed  likely  to  stray  too  far — gathering  its  sons 
to  her  arms  in  virgin  lands  that  they  might  suckle 
again  and  keep  the  old  blood  fresh  and  strong. 

127 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

Who  could  know  what  danger  threatened  it  when 
she  sent  her  blue-eyed  men  and  women  to  people 
the  wilderness  of  the  New  World  ?  To  climb  the 
Alleghanies,  spread  through  the  wastes  beyond, 
and  plant  their  kind  across  a  continent  from  sea  to 
sea.  Who  knows  what  dangers  threaten  now, 
when,  this  task  done,  she  seems  to  be  opening  the 
eastern  gates  of  the  earth  with  a  gesture  that  seems 
to  say — "Enter,  reclaim,  and  dwell  therein!" 

One  little  race  of  that  race  in  the  New  World, 
and  one  only,  has  she  kept  flesh  of  her  flesh,  bone 
of  her  bone — to  that  race  only  did  she  give  no 
^outside  aid.  She  shut  it  in  with  gray  hill  and 
rshining  river.  She  shut  it  off  from  the  mother 
.state  and  the  mother  nation  and  left  it  to  fight 
jts  own  fight  with  savage  nature,  savage  beast,  and 
savage  man.  And  thus  she  gave  the  little  race 
strength  of  heart  and  body  and  brain,  and  taught 
•it  to  stand  together  as  she  taught  each  man  of  the 
race  to  stand  alone,  protect  his  women,  mind  his 
own  business,  and  meddle  not  at  all;  to  think  his 
own  thoughts  and  die  for  them  if  need  be,  though 
he  divided  his  own  house  against  itself;  taught 
the  man  to  cleave  to  one  woman,  with  the  penalty 
of  death  if  he  strayed  elsewhere;  to  keep  her — • 
and  even  himself — in  dark  ignorance  of  the  sins 
against  Herself  for  which  she  has  slain  other  na 
tions,  and  in  that  happy  ignorance  keeps  them  to 
day,  even  while  she  is  slaying  elsewhere  still. 

128 


THE  BLUEGRASS 

And  Nature  holds  the  Kentuckians  close  even 
to-day — suckling  at  her  breasts  and  living  after 
her  simple  laws.  What  further  use  she  may  have 
for  them  is  hid  by  the  darkness  of  to-morrow,  but 
before  the  Great  War  came  she  could  look  upon 
her  work  and  say  with  a  smile  that  it  was  good. 
The  land  was  a  great  series  of  wooded  parks  such 
as  one  might  have  found  in  Merry  England,  ex 
cept  that  worm  fence  and  stone  wall  took  the 
place  of  hedge  along  the  highways.  It  was  a  land 
of  peace  and  of  a  plenty  that  was  close  to  easy 
luxury — for  all.  Poor  whites  were  few,  the  beg 
gar  was  unknown,  and  throughout  the  region  there 
was  no  man,  woman,  or  child,  perhaps,  who  did 
not  have  enough  to  eat  and  to  wear  and  a  roof  to- 
cover  his  head,  whether  it  was  his  own  roof  or 
not.  If  slavery  had  to  be — then  the  fetters  were 
forged  light  and  hung  loosely.  And,  broadcast, 
through  the  people,  was  the  upright  sturdiness  of 
the  Scotch-Irishman,  without  his  narrowness  and 
bigotry;  the  grace  and  chivalry  of  the  Cavalier 
without  his  Quixotic  sentiment  and  his  weakness; 
the  jovial  good-nature  of  the  English  squire  and 
the  leavening  'spirit  of  a  simple  yeomanry  that 
bore  itself  with  unconscious  tenacity  to  traditions 
that  seeped  from  the  very  earth.  And  the  wings 
of  the  eagle  hovered  over  all. 

For  that  land  it  was  the  flowering  time  of  the 
age  and  the  people;  and  the  bud  that  was  about 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM   COME 

to  open  into  the  perfect  flower  had  its  living  sym 
bol  in  the  little  creature  racing  over  the  bluegrass 
fields  on  a  black  pony,  with  a  black  velvet  cap  and 
a  white  nodding  plume  above  her  shaking  curls, 
just  as  the  little  stranger  who  had  floated  down 
into  those  Elysian  fields — with  better  blood  in  his 
veins  than  he  knew — was  a  reincarnation  perhaps 
of  the  spirit  of  the  old  race  that  had  lain  dormant 
in  the  hills.  The  long  way  from  log-cabin  to 
Greek  portico  had  marked  the  progress  of  the 
.generations  before  her;  and,  on  this  same  way, 
boy  had  set  his  sturdy  feet. 


130 


XI 

A  TOURNAMENT 

Sunday,  the  Major  and  Miss  Lucy  took 
Chad  to  church — a  country  church  built  of 
red  brick  and  overgrown  with  ivy — and  the  ser 
mon  was  very  short,  Chad  thought,  for,  down  in 
the  mountains,  the  circuit-rider  would  preach  for 
hours  —  and  the  deacons  passed  around  velvet 
pouches  for  the  people  to  drop  money  in,  and 
they  passed  around  bread,  of  which  nearly  every 
body  took  a  pinch,  and  a  silver  goblet  with  wine, 
from  which  the  same  people  took  a  sip — all  of 
which  Chad  did  not  understand.  Usually  the 
Deans  went  to  Lexington  to  church,  for  they  were 
Episcopalians,  but  they  were  all  at  the  country 
church  that  day,  and  with  them  was  Richard 
Hunt,  who  smiled  at  Chad  and  waved  his  riding- 
whip.  After  church  Dan  came  to  him  and  shook 
hands.  Harry  nodded  to  him  gravely,  the  mother 
smiled  kindly,  and  the  General  put  his  hand  on 
the  boy's  head.  Margaret  looked  at  him  fur 
tively,  but  passed  him  by.  Perhaps  she  was  still 
"mad"  at  him,  Chad  thought,  and  he  was  much 
worried.  Margaret  was  not  shy  like  Melissa,  but 
her  face  was  kind.  The  General  asked  them  all 

131 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

over  to  take  dinner,   but  Miss  Lucy  declined- 
she  had   asked   people   to  take  dinner  with   her. 
And  Chad,  with  keen  disappointment,  saw  them 
drive  away. 

It  was  a  lonely  day  for  him  that  Sunday.  He 
got  tired  staying  so  long  at  the  table,  and  he  did 
not  understand  what  the  guests  were  talking  about. 
The  afternoon  was  long,  and  he  wandered  rest 
lessly  about  the  yard  and  the  quarters.  Jerome 
Conners,  the  overseer,  tried  to  be  friendly  with 
him  for  the  first  time,  but  the  boy  did  not  like 
the  overseer  and  turned  away  from  him.  He 
walked  down  to  the  pike  gate  and  sat  on  it,  look 
ing  over  toward  the  Deans'.  He  wished  that 
Dan  would  come  over  to  see  him  or,  better  still, 
that  he  could  go  over  to  see  Dan  and  Harry 
and — Margaret.  But  Dan  did  not  come  and 
Chad  could  not  ask  the  Major  to  let  him  go — 
he  was  too  shy  about  it — and  Chad  was  glad 
when  bedtime  came 

Two  days  more  and  spring  was  come  in  ear 
nest.  It  was  in  the  softness  of  the  air,  the  ten 
derness  of  cloud  and  sky,  and  the  warmth  of  the 
sunlight.  The  grass  was  greener  and  the  trees 
quivered  happily.  Hens  scratched  and  cocks 
crowed  more  lustily.  Insect  life  was  busier.  A 
stallion  nickered  in  the  barn,  and  from  the  fields 
came  the  mooing  of  cattle.  Field-hands  going  to 
work  chaffed  the  maids  about  the  house  and  quar- 

132 


A  TOURNAMENT 

ters.  It  stirred  dreamy  memories  of  his  youth  in 
the  Major,  and  it  brought  a  sad  light  into  Miss 
Lucy's  faded  eyes.  Would  she  ever  see  another 
spring  ?  It  brought  tender  memories  to  General 
Dean,  and  over  at  Woodlawn,  after  he  and  Mrs. 
Dean  had  watched  the  children  go  off  with  happy 
cries  and  laughter  to  school,  it  led  them  back  into 
the  house  hand  in  hand.  And  it  set  Chad's  heart 
aglow  as  he  walked  through  the  dewy  grass  and 
amid  the  singing  of  many  birds  toward  the  pike 
gate.  He,  too,  was  on  his  way  to  school — in  a 
brave  new  suit  of  clothes — and  nobody  smiled  at 
him  now,  except  admiringly,  for  the  Major  had 
taken  him  to  town  the  preceding  day  and  had  got 
the  boy  clothes  such  as  Dan  and  Harry  wore. 
Chad  was  worried  at  first — he  did  not  like  to 
accept  so  much  from  the  Major. 

"I'll  pay  you  back,"  said  Chad.  "I'll  leave 
you  my  hoss  when  I  go  'way,  if  I  don't,"  and  the 
Major  laughingly  said  that  was  all  right  and  he 
made  Chad,  too,  think  that  it  was  all  right.  And 
so  spring  took  the  shape  of  hope  in  Chad's  breast, 
that  morning,  and  a  little  later  it  took  the  shape 
of  Margaret,  for  he  soon  saw  the  Dean  children 
ahead  of  him  in  the  road  and  he  ran  to  catch  up 
with  them. 

All  looked  at  him  with  surprise — seeing  his 
broad  white  collar  with  ruffles,  his  turned-back, 
ruffled  cuffs,  and  his  boots  with  red  tops;  but  they 

'33 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

were  too  polite  to  say  anything.  Still  Chad  felt 
Margaret  taking  them  all  in  and  he  was  proud 
and  confident.  And,  when  her  eyes  were  lifted  to 
the  handsome  face  that  rose  from  the  collar  and 
the  thick  yellow  hair,  he  caught  them  with  his 
own  in  an  unconscious  look  of  fealty,  that  made 
the  little  girl  blush  and  hurry  on  and  not  look  at 
him  again  until  they  were  in  school,  when  she 
turned  her  eyes,  as  did  all  the  other  boys  and 
girls,  to  scan  the  new  "scholar."  Chad's  work 
in  the  mountains  came  in  well  now.  The  teacher, 
a  gray,  sad-eyed,  thin-faced  man,  was  surprised  at 
the  boy's  capacity,  for  he  could  read  as  well  as 
Dan,  and  in  mental  arithmetic  even  Harry  was 
no  match  for  him;  and  when  in  the  spelling  class 
he  went  from  the  bottom  to  the  head  in  a  single 
lesson,  the  teacher  looked  as  though  he  were  going 
to  give  the  boy  a  word  of  praise  openly  and  Mar 
garet  was  regarding  him  with  a  new  light  in  her 
proud  eyes.  That  was  a  happy  day  for  Chad,  but 
it  passed  after  school  when,  as  they  went  home 
together,  Margaret  looked  at  him  no  more;  else 
Chad  would  have  gone  by  the  Deans'  house  when 
Dan  and  Harry  asked  him  to  go  and  look  at  their 
ponies  and  the  new  sheep  that  their  father  had 
just  bought;  for  Chad  was  puzzled  and  awed 
and  shy  of  the  little  girl.  It  was  strange — he 
had  never  felt  that  way  about  Melissa.  But  his 
shyness  kept  him  away  from  her  day  after  day 

134 


A  TOURNAMENT 

until,  one  morning,  he  saw  her  ahead  of  him 
going  to  school  alone,  and  his  heart  thumped  as 
he  quietly  and  swiftly  overtook  her  without  call 
ing  to  her;  but  he  stopped  running  that  she  might 
not  know  that  he  had  been  running,  and  for  the 
first  time  she  was  shy  with  him.  Harry  and  Dan 
were  threatened  with  the  measles,  she  said,  and 
would  say  no  more.  When  they  went  through 
the  fields  toward  the  school-house,  Chad  stalked 
ahead  as  he  had  done  in  the  mountains  with  Me 
lissa,  and,  looking  back,  he  saw  that  Margaret 
had  stopped.  He  waited  for  her  to  come  up,  and 
she  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  though  dis 
pleased.  Puzzled,  Chad  gave  back  her  look  for 
a  moment  and  turned  without  a  word — still  stalk 
ing  ahead.  He  looked  back  presently  and  Mar 
garet  had  stopped  and  was  pouting. 

"You  aren't  polite,  little  boy.  My  mamma 
says  a  nice  little  boy  always  lets  a  little  girl  go  first." 
But  Chad  still  walked  ahead.  He  looked  back 
presently  and  she  had  stopped  again — whether 
angry  or  ready  to  cry,  he  could  not  make  out — 
so  he  waited  for  her,  and  as  she  came  slowly  near 
he  stepped  gravely  from  the  path,  and  Margaret 
went  on  like  a  queen. 

In  town,  a  few  days  later,  he  saw  a  little  fellow 
take  off  his  hat  when  a  lady  passed  him,  and  it 
set  Chad  to  thinking.  He  recalled  asking  the 
school-master  once  what  was  meant  when  the  latter 

135 


THE   LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

read  about  a  knight  doffing  his  plume,  and  the 
school-master  had  told  him  that  men,  in  those  days, 
took  off  their  hats  in  the  presence  of  ladies  just  as 
they  did  in  the  Bluegrass  now;  but  Chad  had  for 
gotten.  He  understood  it  all  then  and  he  surprised 
Margaret,  next  morning,  by  taking  off  his  cap 
gravely  when  he  spoke  to  her;  and  the  little  lady 
was  greatly  pleased,  for  her  own  brothers  did  not 
do  that,  at  least,  not  to  her,  though  she  had  heard 
her  mother  tell  them  that  they  must.  All  this  must 
be  chivalry,  Chad  thought,  and  when  Harry  and 
Dan  got  well,  he  revived  his  old  ideas,  but  Harry 
laughed  at  him  and  Dan  did,  too,  until  Chad,  re 
membering  Beelzebub,  suggested  that  they  should 
have  a  tournament  with  two  rams  that  the  General 
had  tied  up  in  the  stable.  They  would  make  spears 
and  each  would  get  on  a  ram.  Harry  would  let 
them  out  into  the  lot  and  they  would  have  "a  real 
charge — sure  enough."  But  Margaret  received 
the  plan  with  disdain,  until  Dan,  at  Chad's  sug 
gestion,  asked  the  General  to  read  them  the  tour 
nament  scene  in  "  Ivanhoe,"  which  excited  the  little 
lady  a  great  deal;  and  when  Chad  said  that  she 
must  be  the  " Queen  of  Love  and  Beauty"  she 
blushed  prettily  and  thought,  after  all,  that  it 
would  be  great  fun.  They  would  make  lances  of 
ash-wood  and  helmets  of  tin  buckets,  and  perhaps 
Margaret  would  make  red  sashes  for  them.  In 
deed,  she  would,  and  the  tournament  would  take 


A  TOURNAMENT 

place  on  the  next  Saturday.  But,  on  Saturday,  one 
of  the  sheep  was  taken  over  to  Major  Buford's 
and  the  other  was  turned  loose  in  the  Major's  back 
pasture  and  the  great  day  had  to  be  postponed. 

It  was  on  the  night  of  the  reading  from  "  Ivan- 
hoe"  that  Harry  and  Dan  found  out  how  Chad 
could  play  the  banjo.  Passing  old  Mammy's  cabin 
that  night  before  supper,  the  three  boys  had 
stopped  to  listen  to  old  Tom  play,  and  after  a  few 
tunes,  Chad  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

"I  foller  pickin'  the  banjer  a  leetle,"  he  said  shy 
ly,  and  thereupon  he  had  taken  the  rude  instrument 
and  made  the  old  negro's  eyes  stretch  with  amaze 
ment,  while  Dan  rolled  in  the  grass  with  delight, 
and  every  negro  who  heard  ran  toward  the  boy. 
After  supper,  Dan  brought  the  banjo  into  the  house 
and  made  Chad  play  on  the  porch,  to  the  delight 
of  them  all.  And  there,  too,  the  servants  gathered, 
and  even  old  Mammy  was  observed  slyly  shaking 
her  foot — so  that  Margaret  clapped  her  hands  and 
laughed  the  old  woman  into  great  confusion. 
After  that  no  Saturday  came  that  Chad  did  not 
spend  the  night  at  the  Deans',  or  Harry  and  Dan 
did  not  stay  at  Major  Buford's.  And  not  a  Satur 
day  passed  that  the  three  boys  did  not  go 'coon-hunt 
ing  with  the  darkies,  or  fox-hunting  with  the  Major 
and  the  General.  Chad  never  forgot  that  first  star 
lit  night  when  he  was  awakened  by  the  near  wind 
ing  of  a  horn  and  heard  the  Major  jump  from  bed 

J37 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

He  jumped  too,  and  when  the  Major  reached  the 
barn,  a  dark  little  figure  was  close  at  his  heels. 

"Can  I  go,  too  ?"  Chad  asked,  eagerly. 

"  Think  you  can  stick  on  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"All  right.  Get  my  bay  horse.  That  old  mare 
of  yours  is  too  slow." 

The  Major's  big  bay  horse!  Chad  was  dizzy 
with  pride. 

When  they  galloped  out  into  the  dark  woods, 
there  were  the  General  and  Harry  and  Dan  and 
half  a  dozen  neighbors,  sitting  silently  on  their 
horses  and  listening  to  the  music  of  the  hounds. 

The  General  laughed. 

"I  thought  you'd  come,"  he  said,  and  the  Ma 
jor  laughed  too,  and  cocked  his  ear.  "Old  Rock's 
ahead,"  he  said,  for  he  knew,  as  did  everyone  there, 
the  old  hound's  tongue. 

"He's  been  ahead  for  an  hour,"  said  the  General 
with  quiet  satisfaction,  "and  I  think  he'll  stay 
there." 

Just  then  a  dark  object  swept  past  them,  and  the 
Major  with  a  low  cry  hied  on  his  favorite  hound. 

"Not  now,  I  reckon,"  he  said,  and  the  General 
laughed  again. 

Dan  and  Harry  pressed  their  horses  close  to 
Chad,  and  all  talked  in  low  voices. 

"Ain't  it  fun  ?"  whispered  Dan.  Chad  answered 
with  a  shiver  of  pure  joy. 

138 


A  TOURNAMENT 

"He's  making  for  the  creek,"  said  the  Major, 
sharply,  and  he  touched  spurs  to  his  horse.  How 
they  raced  through  the  woods,  cracking  brush  and 
whisking  around  trees,  and  how  they  thundered 
over  the  turf  and  clattered  across  the  road  and  on! 
For  a  few  moments  the  Major  kept  close  to  Chad, 
watching  him  anxiously,  but  the  boy  stuck  to  the 
big  bay  like  a  jockey,  and  he  left  Dan  and  Harry 
on  their  ponies  far  behind.  All  night  they  rode  un 
der  the  starlit  sky,  and  ten  miles  away  they  caught 
poor  Reynard.  Chad  was  in  at  the  kill,  with  the 
Major  and  the  General,  and  the  General  gave 
Chad  the  brush  with  his  own  hand. 

"Where  did  you  learn  to  ride,  boy?" 

"I  never  learned,"  said  Chad,  simply,  whereat 
the  Major  winked  at  his  friends  and  patted  Chad 
on  the  shoulder. 

"I've  got  to  let  my  boys  ride  better  horses,  I 
suppose,"  said  the  General;  "I  can't  have  a  boy 
who  does  not  know  how  to  ride  beating  them  this 
way." 

Day  was  breaking  when  the  Major  and  Chad 
rode  into  the  stable-yard.  The  boy's  face  was  pale, 
his  arms  and  legs  ached,  and  he  was  so  sleepy  that 
he  could  hardly  keep  his  eyes  open. 

"How'd  you  like  it,  Chad?" 

"I  never  knowed  nothing  like  it  in  my  life,"  said 
Chad. 

"I'm  going  to  teach  you  to  shoot." 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Chad. 

As  they  approached  the  house,  a  squirrel  barked 
from  the  woods. 

"Hear  that,  Chad?"  said  the  Major.  "We'll 
get  him." 

The  following  morning,  Chad  rose  early  and 
took  his  old  rifle  out  into  the  woods,  and  when  the 
Major  came  out  on  the  porch  before  breakfast  the 
boy  was  coming  up  the  walk  with  six  squirrels  in 
his  hand.  The  Major's  eyes  opened  and  he  looked 
at  the  squirrels  when  Chad  dropped  them  on  the 
porch.  Every  one  of  them  was  shot  through  the 
head. 

"Well,  I'm  damned!  How  many  times  did  you 
shoot,  Chad  ?" 

"Seven." 

"What — missed  only  once?" 

"I  took  a  knot  fer  a  squirrel  once,"  said  Chad. 

The  Major  roared  aloud. 

"Did  I  say  I  was  going  to  teach  you  to  shoot, 
Chad?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  Major  chuckled  and  that  day  he  told  about 
those  squirrels  and  that  knot  to  everybody  he  saw. 
With  every  day  the  Major  grew  fonder  and 
prouder  of  the  boy  and  more  convinced  than  ever 
that  the  lad  was  of  his  own  blood. 

'There's  nothing  that  I  like  that  that  boy  don't 
take  to  like  a  duck  to  water."  And  when  he  saw 

140 


A  TOURNAMENT 

the  boy  take  off  his  hat  to  Margaret  and  observed 
his  manner  with  the  little  girl,  he  said  to  himself 
that  if  Chad  wasn't  a  gentleman  born,  he  ought  to 
have  been,  and  the  Major  believed  that  he  must  be. 

Everywhere,  at  school,  at  the  Deans',  with  the 
darkies — with  everybody  but  Conners,  the  over 
seer — Chad  became  a  favorite,  but,  as  to  Napoleon, 
so  to  Chad,  came  Waterloo — with  the  long  de 
ferred  tournament  came  Waterloo  to  Chad. 

And  it  came  after  a  certain  miracle  on  May-day. 
The  Major  had  taken  Chad  to  the  festival  where 
the  dance  was  on  sawdust  in  the  woodland — in  the 
bottom  of  a  little  hollow,  around  which  the  seats 
ran  as  in  an  amphitheatre.  Ready  to  fiddle  for 
them  stood  none  other  than  John  Morgan  himself, 
his  gray  eyes  dancing  and  an  arch  smile  on  his 
handsome  face;  and,  taking  a  place  among  the 
dancers,  were  Richard  Hunt  and — Margaret.  The 
poised  bow  fell,  a  merry  tune  rang  out,  and  Rich 
ard  Hunt  bowed  low  to  his  little  partner,  who,  smil 
ing  and  blushing,  dropped  him  the  daintiest  of 
graceful  courtesies.  Then  the  miracle  came  to 
pass.  Rage  straightway  shook  Chad's  soul — shook 
it  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat — and  the  look  on  his 
face  and  in  his  eyes  went  back  a  thousand  years. 
And  Richard  Hunt,  looking  up,  saw  the  strange 
spectacle,  understood,  and  did  not  even  smile.  On 
the  contrary,  he  went  at  once  after  the  dance  to 
speak  to  the  boy  and  got  for  his  answer  fierce, 

141 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

white,  staring  silence  and  a  clinched  fist,  that  was 
almost  ready  to  strike.  Something  else  that  wTas 
strange  happened  then  to  Chad.  He  felt  a  very 
firm  and  a  very  gentle  hand  on  his  shoulder,  his 
own  eyes  dropped  before  the  piercing  dark  eyes  and 
kindly  smile  above  him,  and,  a  moment  later,  he 
was  shyly  making  his  way  with  Richard  Hunt 
toward  Margaret. 

It  was  on  Thursday  of  the  following  week  that 
Dan  told  him  the  two  rams  were  once  more  tied  in 
his  father's  stable.  On  Saturday,  then,  they  would 
have  the  tournament.  To  get  Mammy's  help, 
Margaret  had  to  tell  the  plan  to  her,  and  Mammy 
stormed  against  the  little  girl  taking  part  in  any 
such  undignified  proceedings,  but  imperious  Mar 
garet  forced  her  to  keep  silent  and  help  make 
sashes  and  a  tent  for  each  of  the  two  knights. 
Chad  would  be  the  ''Knight  of  the  Cumberland" 
and  Dan  the  "Knight  of  the  Bluegrass."  Snow 
ball  was  to  be  Dan's  squire  and  black  Rufus, 
Harry's  body-servant,  would  be  squire  to  Chad. 
Harry  was  King  John,  the  other  pickaninnies  would 
be  varlets  and  vassals,  and  outraged  Uncle  Tom, 
so  Dan  told  him,  would,  "by  the  beard  of  Abra 
ham,"  have  to  be  a  "  Dog  of  an  Unbeliever."  Mar 
garet  was  undecided  whether  she  would  play  Re 
becca,  or  the  "Queen  of  Love  and  Beauty,"  unti) 
Chad  told  her  she  ought  to  be  both,  so  both  she  de 
cided  to  be.  So  all  was  done — the  spears  fashioned 

142 


A  TOURNAMENT 

of  ash,  the  helmets  battered  from  tin  buckets,  col 
ors  knotted  for  the  spears,  and  shields  made  of 
sheepskins.  On  the  stiles  sat  Harry  and  Margaret 
in  royal  state  under  a  canopy  of  calico,  with  indig 
nant  Mammy  behind  them.  At  each  end  of  the 
stable-lot  was  a  tent  of  cotton,  and  before  one  stood 
Snowball  and  before  the  other  black  Rufus,  each 
with  his  master's  spear  and  shield.  Near  Harry 
stood  Sam,  the  trumpeter,  with  a  fox-horn  to  sound 
the  charge,  and  four  black  vassals  stood  at  the  sta 
ble-door  to  lead  the  chargers  forth. 

Near  the  stiles  were  the  neighbors'  children,  and 
around  the  barn  was  gathered  every  darky  on  the 
place,  while  behind  the  hedge  and  peeping  through 
it  were  the  Major  and  the  General,  the  one  chuck 
ling,  the  other  smiling  indulgently. 

The  stable-doors  opened,  the  four  vassals  disap 
peared  and  came  forth,  each  pair  leading  a  ram, 
one  covered  with  red  calico,  the  other  with  blue 
cotton,  and  each  with  a  bandanna  handkerchief 
around  his  neck.  Each  knight  stepped  forth  from 
his  tent,  as  his  charger  was  dragged — ba-a-ing  and 
butting — toward  it,  and,  grasping  his  spear  and 
shield  and  setting  his  helmet  on  more  firmly,  got 
astride  gravely — each  squire  and  vassal  solemn, 
for  the  King  had  given  command  that  no  varlet 
must  show  unseemly  mirth.  Behind  the  hedge, 
the  Major  was  holding  his  hands  to  his  sider  and 
the  General  was  getting  grave.  It  had  jus/  £>c- 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

curred  to  him  that  those  rams  would  make  for 
each  other  like  tornadoes,  and  he  said  so. 

"Of  course  they  will,"  chuckled  the  Major. 
"  Don't  you  suppose  they  know  that  ?  That's  what 
they're  doing  it  for.  Bless  my  soul!" 

The  King  waved  his  hand  just  then  and  his  black 
trumpeter  tooted  the  charge. 

"Leggo!"  said  Chad. 

"Leggo!"  said  Dan. 

And  Snowball  and  Rufus  let  go,  and  each  ram 
ran  a  few  paces  and  stopped  with  his  head  close 
to  the  ground,  while  each  knight  brandished  his 
spear  and  dug  with  his  spurred  heels.  One  charger 
gave  a  ba-a!  The  other  heard,  raised  his  head, 
saw  his  enemy,  and  ba-a-ed  an  answering  challenge. 
Then  they  started  for  each  other  with  a  rush  that 
brought  a  sudden  fearsome  silence,  quickly  fol 
lowed  by  a  babel  of  excited  cries,  in  which 
Mammy's  was  loudest  and  most  indignant.  Dan, 
nearly  unseated,  had  dropped  his  lance  to  catch 
hold  of  his  charger's  wool,  and  Chad  had  gallantly 
lowered  the  point  of  his,  because  his  antagonist 
was  unarmed.  But  the  temper  of  rams  and  not  of 
knights  was  in  that  fight  now  and  they  came  to 
gether  with  a  shock  that  banged  the  two  knights 
into  each  other  and  hurled  both  violently  to  the 
ground.  General  Dean  and  the  Major  ran  anx 
iously  from  the  hedge.  Several  negro  men  rushed 
for  the  rams,  who  were  charging  and  butting  like 

144 


A  TOURNAMENT 

demons.  Harry  tumbled  from  the  canopy  in  a 
most  unkingly  fashion.  Margaret  cried  and  Mam 
my  wrung  her  hands.  Chad  rose  dizzily,  but  Dan 
lay  still.  Chad's  elbow  had  struck  him  in  the  tem 
ple  and  knocked  him  unconscious. 

The  servants  were  thrown  into  an  uproar  when 
Dan  was  carried  back  into  the  house.  Harry  was 
white  and  almost  in  tears. 

"I  did  it;  father,  I  did  it,"  he  said,  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps. 

"No,"  said  Chad,  sturdily,  "I  done  it  myself." 

Margaret  heard  and  ran  from  the  hallway  and 
down  the  steps,  brushing  away  her  tears  with  both 
hands. 

"Yes,  you  did — you  did"  she  cried.  "I  hate 
you." 

"Why,  Margaret,"  said  General  Dean. 

Chad,  startled  and  stung,  turned  without  a  word 
and,  unnoticed  by  the  rest,  made  his  way  slowlv 
across  the  fields. 


XII 

BACK   TO    KINGDOM    COME 

TT  was  the  tournament  that,  at  last,  loosed 
Mammy's  tongue.  She  was  savage  in  her  de 
nunciation  of  Chad  to  Mrs.  Dean — so  savage  and 
in  such  plain  language  that  her  mistress  checked 
her  sharply,  but  not  before  Margaret  had  heard, 
though  the  little  girl,  with  an  awed  face,  slipped 
quietly  out  of  the  room  into  the  yard,  while  Harry 
stood  in  the  doorway,  troubled  and  silent. 

"Don't  let  me  hear  you  speak  that  way  again, 
Mammy,"  said  Mrs.  Dean,  so  sternly  that  the  old 
woman  swept  out  of  the  room  in  high  dudgeon. 
And  yet  she  told  her  husband  of  Mammy's  charge. 

"I  am  rather  surprised  at  Major  Buford." 

"Perhaps  he  doesn't  know,"  said  the  General. 
"Perhaps  it  isn't  true." 

"Nobody  knows  anything  about  the  boy." 

"That's  true." 

"Well,  I  cannot  have  my  children  associating 
with  a  waif." 

"He  seems  like  a  nice  boy." 

"  He  uses  extraordinary  language.  I  cannot  have 
him  teaching  my  children  mischief.  Why  I  believe 

146 


BACK  TO  KINGDOM  COME 

Margaret  is  really  fond  of  him.     I  know  Harry 
and  Dan  are."     The  General  looked  thoughtful. 

"I  will  speak  to  Major  Buford  about  him,"  he 
said;  and  he  did — no  little  to  that  gentleman's  con 
fusion — though  he  defended  Chad  stanchly — and 
the  two  friends  parted  with  some  heat. 

Thereafter,  the  world  changed  for  Chad,  for  i 
there  any  older  and  truer  story  than  that  Evil  has 
wings,  while  Good  goes  a  plodding  way  ?  Chad 
felt  the  change,  in  the  negroes,  in  the  sneering 
overseer,  and  could  not  understand.  The  rumor 
reached  Miss  Lucy's  ears  and  she  and  the  Major 
had  a  spirited  discussion  that  rather  staggered 
Chad's  kind-hearted  companion.  It  reached  the 
school,  and  a  black-haired  youngster,  named 
Georgie  Forbes,  who  had  long  been  one  of  Mar 
garet's  abject  slaves,  and  who  hated  Chad,  brought 
out  the  terrible  charge  in  the  presence  of  a  dozen 
school-children  at  noon-recess  one  day.  It  had  been 
no  insult  in  the  mountains,  but  Chad,  dazed  though 
he  was,  knew  it  was  meant  for  an  insult,  and  his 
hard  fist  shot  out  promptly,  landing  in  his  enemy's 
chin  and  bringing  him  bawling  to  the  earth.  Oth 
ers  gave  out  the  cry  then,  and  the  boy  fought  right 
and  left  like  a  demon.  Dan  stood  sullenly  near, 
taking  no  part,  and  Harry,  while  he  stopped  the 
unequal  fight,  turned  away  from  Chad  coldly,  call 
ing  Margaret,  who  had  run  up  toward  them,  away 
at  the  same  time,  and  Chad's  three  friends  turned 

H7 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

from  him  then  and  there,  while  the  boy,  forgetting 
all  else,  stood  watching  them  with  dumb  wonder 
and  pain.  The  school-bell  clanged,  but  Chad  stood 
still — with  his  heart  wellnigh  breaking.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  last  pupil  had  disappeared  through  the 
school-room  door,  and  Chad  stood  under  a  great 
elm — alone.  But  only  a  moment,  for  he  turned 
quickly  away,  the  tears  starting  to  his  eyes,  walked 
rapidly  through  the  woods,  climbed  the  worm 
fence  beyond,  and  dropped,  sobbing,  in  the  thick 
bluegrass. 

An  hour  later  he  was  walking  swiftly  through 
the  fields  toward  the  old  brick  house  that  had  shel 
tered  him.  He  was  very  quiet  at  supper  that  night, 
and  after  Miss  Lucy  had  gone  to  bed  and  he  and 
the  Major  were  seated  before  the  fire,  he  was  so 
quiet  that  the  Major  looked  at  him  anxiously. 

"What's  the  matter,  Chad  ?     Are  you  sick  ?" 

"Nothin'— no,  sir." 

But  the  Major  was  uneasy,  and  when  he  rose  to 
go  to  bed,  he  went  over  and  put  his  hand  on  the 
boy's  head. 

"Chad,"  he  said,  "if  you  hear  of  people  saying 
mean  things  about  you,  you  mustn't  pay  any  atten 
tion  to  them." 

"No,  sir." 

"You're  a  good  boy,  and  I  want  you  to  live  here 
with  me.  Good-night,  Chad,"  he  added,  affection- 

148 


BACK  TO  KINGDOM  COME 

ately.  Chad  nearly  broke  down,  but  he  steadied 
himself. 

"Good-by,  Major,"  he  said,  brokenly.  "I'm 
obleeged  to  you." 

"  Good-by  ? "  repeated  the  Major.     "  Why- 

"  Good-night,  'I  mean,"  stammered  Chad. 

The  Major  stood  inside  his  own 'door,  listening 
to  the  boy's  slow  steps  up  the  second  flight.  "I'm 
gettin'  to  love  that  boy,"  he  said,  wonderingly— 
"An'  I'm  damned  if  people  who  talk  about  him 
don't  have  me  to  reckon  with" — and  the  Major 
shook  his  head  from  side  to  side.  Several  times  he 
thought  he  could  hear  the  boy  moving  around  in 
the  room  above  him,  and  while  he  was  wondering 
why  the  lad  did  not  go  to  bed,  he  fell  asleep. 

Chad  was  moving  around.  First,  by  the  light 
of  a  candle,  he  laboriously  dug  out  a  short  letter  to 
the  Major — scalding  it  with  tears.  Then  he  took 
off  his  clothes  and  got  his  old  mountain-suit  out  of 
the  closet — moccasins  and  all — and  put  them  on. 
Very  carefully  he  folded  the  pretty  clothes  he  had 
taken  off — just  as  Miss  Lucy  had  taught  him — and 
laid  them  on  the  bed.  Then  he  picked  up  his  old 
rifle  in  one  hand  and  his  old  coonskin  cap  in  the 
other,  blew  out  the  candle,  slipped  noiselessly  down 
the  stairs  in  his  moccasined  feet,  out  the  unbolted 
door  and  into  the  starlit  night.  From  the  pike 
fence  he  turned  once  to  look  back  to  the  dark,  si- 

149 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

lent  house  amid  the  dark  trees.  Then  he  sprang 
down  and  started  through  the  fields — his  face  set 
toward  the  mountains. 

It  so  happened  that  mischance  led  General  Dean 
to  go  over  to  see  Major  Buford  about  Chad  next 
morning.  The  Major  listened  patiently- — or  tried 
ineffectively  to  listen — and  when  the  General  was 
through,  he  burst  out  with  a  vehemence  that 
shocked  and  amazed  his  old  friend. 

"Damn  those  niggers!"  he  cried,  in  a  tone  that 
seemed  to  include  the  General  in  his  condemna 
tion,  "that  boy  is  the  best  boy  I  ever  knew.  I  be 
lieve  he  is  my  own  blood,  he  looks  like  that  picture 
there" — pointing  to  the  old  portrait — "and  if  he 
is  what  I  believe  he  is,  by  -  — ,  sir,  he  gets 
this  farm  and  all  I  have.  Do  you  understand 
that?" 

"I  believe  he  told  you  what  he  was." 

"He  did — but  I  don't  believe  he  knows,  and, 
anyhow,  whatever  he  is,  he  shall  have  a  home  under 
this  roof  as  long  as  he  lives." 

The  General  rose  suddenly — stiffly. 

"He  must  never  darken  my  door  again." 

"Very  well."  The  Major  made  a  gesture  which 
plainly  said,  "In  that  event,  you  are  darkening  mine 
too  long,"  and  the  General  rose,  slowly  descended 
the  steps  of  the  portico,  and  turned: 

"Do  you  really  mean,  Cal,  that  you  are  going  to 

1.50 


let  a  little  brat  that  you  picked  up  in  the  road  only 
yesterday  stand  between  you  and  me  ?" 

The  Major  softened. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  whisking  a  sheet  of  paper 
from  his  coat-pocket.  While  the  General  read 
Chad's  scrawl,  the  Major  watched  his  face. 

"He's  gone,  by  -  — .  A  hint  was  enough  for 
him.  If  he  isn't  the  son  of  a  gentleman,  then  I'm 
not,  nor  you." 

"Cal,"  said  the  General,  holding  out  his  hand, 
"we'll  talk  this  over  again." 

The  bees  buzzed  around  the  honeysuckles  that 
clambered  over  the  porch.  A  crow  flew  overhead. 
The  sound  of  a  crying  child  came  around  the  cor 
ner  of  the  house  from  the  quarters,  and  the  Gen 
eral's  footsteps  died  on  the  gravel-walk,  but  the 
Major  heard  them  not.  Mechanically  he  watched 
the  General  mount  his  black  horse  and  canter 
toward  the  pike  gate.  The  overseer  called  to  him 
from  the  stable,  but  the  Major  dropped  his  eyes  to 
the  scrawl  in  his  hand,  and  when  Miss  Lucy  came 
out  he  silently  handed  it  to  her. 

"I  reckon  you  know  what  folks  is  a-sayin*  about 
me.  I  tol'  you  myself.  But  I  didn't  know  hit  wus 
any  harm,  and  anyways  hit  ain't  my  fault,  I  reckon, 
an'  I  don't  see  how  folks  can  blame  me.  But  I 
don'  want  nobody  who  don'  want  me.  An'  I'm 
leavin'  'cause  I  don't  want  to  bother  you.  I  never 
bring  nothing  but  trouble  nohow  an'  I'm  goin'  back 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

to  the  mountains.  Tell  Miss  Lucy  good-by.  She 
was  mighty  good  to  me,  but  I  know  she  didn't  like 
me.  I  left  the  hoss  for  you.  If  you  don't  have  no 
use  fer  the  saddle,  I  wish  you'd  give  hit  to  Harry, 
'cause  he  tuk  up  fer  me  at  school  when  I  was  fight- 
in',  though  he  wouldn't  speak  to  me  no  more.  I'm 
mighty  sorry  to  leave  you.  I'm  obleeged  to  you 
'cause  you  wus  so  good  to  me  an'  I'm  goin'  to  see 
you  agin  some  day,  if  I  can.  Good-by/' 

"Left  that  damned  old  mare  to  pay  for  his 
clothes  and  his  board  and  his  schooling,"  muttered 
the  Major.  "  By  the  gods" — he  rose  suddenly  and 
strode  away — "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Lucy." 

A  tear  was  running  down  each  of  Miss  Lucy's 
faded  cheeks. 

Dawn  that  morning  found  Chad  springing  from 
a  bed  in  a  haystack — ten  miles  from  Lexington. 
By  dusk  that  day,  he  was  on  the  edge  of  the  Blue- 
grass  and  that  night  he  stayed  at  a  farm-house,  go 
ing  in  boldly,  for  he  had  learned  now  that  the  way 
farer  was  as  welcome  in  a  Bluegrass  farm-house  as 
in  a  log-cabin  in  the  mountains.  Higher  and  higher 
grew  the  green  swelling  slopes,  until,  climbing  one 
about  noon  next  day,  he  saw  the  blue  foothills  of 
the  Cumberland  through  the  clear  air — and  he 
stopped  and  looked  long,  breathing  hard  from  pure 
ecstasy.  The  plain-dweller  never  knows  the  fierce 
home  hunger  that  the  mountain-born  have  for  hills. 

152 


BACK  TO  KINGDOM  COME 

Besides,  beyond  those  blue  summits  were  the 
Turners  and  the  school-master  and  Jack,  waiting 
for  him,  and  he  forgot  hunger  and  weariness  as 
he  trod  on  eagerly  toward  them.  That  night,  he 
stayed  in  a  mountain-cabin,  and  while  the  contrast 
of  the  dark  room,  the  crowding  children,  the  slov 
enly  dress,  and  the  coarse  food  was  strangely  dis 
agreeable,  along  with  the  strange  new  shock  came 
the  thrill  that  all  this  meant  hills  and  home.  It 
was  about  three  o'clock  of  the  fourth  day  that, 
tramping  up  the  Kentucky  River,  he  came  upon  a 
long,  even  stretch  of  smooth  water,  from  the  upper 
end  of  which  two  black  bowlders  were  thrust  out 
of  the  stream,  and  with  a  keener  thrill  he  realized 
that  he  was  nearing  home.  He  recalled  seeing 
those  rocks  as  the  raft  swept  down  the  river,  and 
the  old  Squire  had  said  that  they  were  named  after 
oxen—"  Billy  and  Buck."  Opposite  the  rocks  he 
met  a  mountaineer. 

"How  fer  is  it  to  Uncle  Joel  Turner's  ?" 

"A  leetle  the  rise  o'  six  miles,  I  reckon." 

The  boy  was  faint  with  weariness,  and  those  six 

miles  seemed  a  dozen.     Idea  of  distance  is  vague 

among  the  mountaineers,  and  two  hours  of  weary 

travel  followed,  yet  nothing  that  he  recognized  was 

in  sight.     Once  a  bend  of  the  river  looked  familiar, 

but  when  he  neared  it,  the  road  turned  steeply  from 

the  river  and  over  a  high  bluff,  and  the  boy  started 

up  with  a  groan.     He  meant  to  reach  the  summit 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

before  he  stopped  to  rest,  but  in  sheer  pain,  he 
dropped  a  dozen  paces  from  the  top  and  lay 
with  his  tongue,  like  a  dog's,  between  his 
lips. 

The  top  was  warm,  but  a  chill  was  rising  from 
the  fast-darkening  shadows  below  him.  The  rim 
of  the  sun  was  about  to  brush  the  green  tip  of  a 
mountain  across  the  river,  and  the  boy  rose  in  a 
minute,  dragged  himself  on  to  the  point  where, 
rounding  a  big  rock,  he  dropped  again  with  a 
thumping  heart  and  a  reeling  brain.  There  it  was 
— old  Joel's  cabin  in  the  pretty  valley  below — old 
Joel's  cabin — home!  Smoke  was  rising  from  the 
chimney,  and  that  far  away  it  seemed  that  Chad 
could  smell  frying  bacon.  There  was  the  old  barn, 
and  he  could  make  out  one  of  the  boys  feeding 
stock  and  another  chopping  wood — was  that  the 
school-master  ?  There  was  the  huge  form  of  old 
Joel  at  the  fence  talking  with  a  neighbor.  He  was 
gesticulating  as  though  angry,  and  the  old  mother 
came  to  the  door  as  the  neighbor  moved  away  with 
a  shuffling  gait  that  the  boy  knew  belonged  to  the 
Dillon  breed.  Where  was  Jack?  Jack!  Chad 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  went  down  the  hill  on  a  run. 
He  climbed  the  orchard  fence,  breaking  the  top- 
rail  in  his  eagerness,  and  as  he  neared  the  house,  he 
gave  a  shrill  yell.  A  scarlet  figure  flashed  like  a 
flame  out  of  the  door,  with  an  answering  cry,  and 
the  Turners  followed: 

154 


BACK  TO  KINGDOM  COME 

"Why,  boy,"  roared  old  Joel.  "Mammy,  hit's 
Chad!" 

Dolph  dropped  an  armful  of  feed.  The  man 
with  the  axe  left  it  stuck  in  a  log,  and  each  man 
shouted: 

"Chad!" 

The  mountaineers  are  an  undemonstrative  race, 
but  Mother  Turner  took  the  boy  in  her  arms  and 
the  rest  crowded  around,  slapping  him  on  the  back 
and  all  asking  questions  at  once — Dolph  and  Rube 
and  Tom.  Yes,  and  there  was  the  school-master — 
every  face  was  almost  tender  with  love  for  the  boy. 
But  where  was  Jack  ? 

"Where's — where's  Jack?"  said  Chad. 

Old  Joel  changed  face — looking  angry;  the  rest 
were  grave.  Only  the  old  mother  spoke: 

"Jack's  all  right." 

"Oh,"  said  Chad,  but  he  looked  anxious. 

Melissa  inside  heard.  He  had  not  asked  for 
her,  and  with  the  sudden  choking  of  a  nameless 
fear  she  sprang  out  the  door  to  be  caught  by  the 
school-master,  who  had  gone  around  the  corner  to 
look  for  her. 

"Lemme  go,"  she  said,  fiercely,  breaking  his 
hold  and  darting  away,  but  stopping,  when  she  saw 
Chad  in  the  doorway,  looking  at  her  with  a  shy 
smile. 

"Howdye,  Melissa!" 

The  girl  stared  at  him  mildly  and  made  no  an- 

155 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

swer,  and  a  wave  of  shame  and  confusion  swept 
over  the  boy  as  his  thoughts  flashed  back  to  a  little 
girl  in  a  black  cap  and  on  a  black  pony,  and  he 
stood  reddening  and  helpless.  There  was  a  halloo 
at  the  gate.  It  was  old  Squire  Middleton  and  the 
circuit-rider,  and  old  Joel  went  toward  them  with 
a  darkening  face. 

"Why,  hello,  Chad,"  the  Squire  said.  "You 
back  again  ?" 

He  turned  to  Joel. 

"Look  hyeh,  Joel.  Thar  hain't  no  use  o'  your 
buckin'  agin  yo'  neighbors  and  harborin'  a  sheep- 
killin'  dog."  Chad  started  and  looked  from  one 
face  to  another — slowly  but  surely  making  out  the 
truth. 

"You  never  seed  the  dawg  afore  last  spring. 
You  don't  know  that  he  hain't  a  sheep-killer." 

"It's  a  lie — a  lie,"  Chad  cried,  hotly,  but  the 
school-master  stopped  him. 

"Hush,  Chad,"  he  said,  and  he  took  the  boy  in 
side  and  told  him  Jack  was  in  trouble.  A  Dillon 
sheep  had  been  found  dead  on  a  hill-side.  Daws 
Dillon  had  come  upon  Jack  leaping  out  of  the 
pasture,  and  Jack  had  come  home  with  his  muzzle 
bloody.  Even  with  this  overwhelming  evidence, 
old  Joel  stanchly  refused  to  believe  the  dog  was 
guilty  and  ordered  old  man  Dillon  off  the  place. 
A  neighbor  had  come  over,  then  another,  and  an 
other,  until  old  Joel  got  livid  with  rage. 


BACK  TO  KINGDOM  COME 

"That  dawg  mought  eat  a  dead  sheep  but  he 
never  would  kill  a  live  one,  and  if  you  kill  him,  by 

— ,  you've  got  to  kill  me  fust." 

Now  there  is  no  more  unneighborly  or  unchris 
tian  act  for  a  farmer  than  to  harbor  a  sheep-killing 
dog.  So  the  old  Squire  and  the  circuit-rider  had 
come  over  to  show  Joel  the  grievous  error  of  his 
selfish,  obstinate  course,  and,  so  far,  old  Joel  had 
refused  to  be  shown.  All  of  his  sons  sturdily  up 
held  him  and  little  Melissa  fiercely — the  old  mother 
and  the  school-master  alone  remaining  quiet  and 
taking  no  part  in  the  dissension. 

"Have  they  got  Jack  ?" 

"No,  Chad,"  said  the  school-master.  "He's 
safe — tied  up  in  the  stable."  Chad  started  out, 
and  no  one  followed  but  Melissa.  A  joyous  bark 
that  was  almost  human  came  from  the  stable  as 
Chad  approached,  for  the  dog  must  have  known 
the  sound  of  his  master's  footsteps,  and  when  Chad 
threw  open  the  door,  Jack  sprang  the  length  of  his 
tether  to  meet  him  and  was  jerked  to  his  back. 
Again  and  again  he  sprang,  barking,  as  though  be 
side  himself,  while  Chad  stood  at  the  door,  look 
ing  sorrowfully  at  him. 

"Down,  Jack!"  he  said  sternly,  and  Jack 
dropped  obediently,  looking  straight  at  his  master 
with  honest  eyes  and  whimpering  like  a  child. 

"Jack,"  said  Chad,  "did  you  kill  that  sheep  ?" 
This  was  all  strange  conduct  for  his  little  master, 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

and  Jack  looked  wondering  and  dazed,  but  his  eyes 
never  wavered  or  blinked.  Chad  could  not  long 
stand  those  honest  eyes. 

"No,"  he  said,  fiercely — "no,  little  doggie,  no 
— no!"  And  Chad  dropped  on  his  knees  and  took 
Jack  in  his  arms  and  hugged  him  to  his  breast. 


158 


XIII 

ON   TRIAL    FOR    HIS    LIFE 

T)  Y  degrees  the  whole  story  was  told  Chad  that 
night.  Now  and  then  the  Turners  would 
ask  him  about  his  stay  in  the  Bluegrass,  but  the  boy 
would  answer  as  briefly  as  possible  and  come  back 
to  Jack.  Before  going  to  bed,  Chad  said  he  would 
bring  Jack  into  the  house: 

"Somebody  might  pizen  him,"  he  explained, 
and  when  he  came  back,  he  startled  the  circle  about 
the  fire: 

"  Whar's  Whizzer  ? "  he  asked,  sharply.  "  Who's 
seen  Whizzer  ?" 

Then  it  developed  that  no  one  had  seen  the  Dil 
lon  dog — since  the  day  before  the  sheep  was  found 
dead  near  a  ravine  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  in  a 
back  pasture.  Late  that  afternoon  Melissa  had 
found  Whizzer  in  that  very  pasture  when  she 
was  driving  old  Betsy,  the  brindle,  home  at  milk- 
ing-time.  Since  then,  no  one  of  the  Turners  had 
seen  the  Dillon  dog.  That,  however,  did  not  prove 
that  Whizzer  was  not  at  home.  And  yet, 

"I'd  like  to  know  whar  Whizzer  is  now!"  said 
Chad,  and,  after,  at  old  Joel's  command,  he  had 

159 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

tied  Jack  to  a  bedpost — an  outrage  that  puzzled 
the  dog  sorely — the  boy  threshed  his  bed  for  an 
hour — trying  to  think  out  a  defence  for  Jack  and 
wondering  if  Whizzer  might  not  have  been  con 
cerned  in  the  death  of  the  sheep. 

It  is  hardly  possible  that  what  happened,  next 
day,  could  happen  anywhere  except  among  simple 
people  of  the  hills.  Briefly,  the  old  Squire  and  the 
circuit-rider  had  brought  old  Joel  to  the  point  of 
saying,  the  night  before,  that  he  would  give  Jack 
up  to  be  killed,  if  he  could  be  proven  guilty.  But 
the  old  hunter  cried  with  an  oath: 

"You've  got  to  prove  him  guilty."  And  there 
upon  the  Squire  said  he  would  give  Jack  every 
chance  that  he  would  give  a  man — he  would  try 
him;  each  side  could  bring  in  witnesses;  old  Joel 
could  have  a  lawyer  if  he  wished,  and  Jack's  case 
would  go  before  a  jury.  If  pronounced  innocent, 
Jack  should  go  free:  if  guilty — then  the  dog 
should  be  handed  over  to  the  sheriff,  to  be  shot 
at  sundown.  Joel  agreed. 

It  was  a  strange  procession  that  left  the  gate  of 
the  Turner  cabin  next  morning.  Old  Joel  led  the 
way,  mounted,  with  "ole  Sal,"  his  rifle,  across  his 
saddle-bow.  Behind  him  came  Mother  Turner 
and  Melissa  on  foot  and  Chad  with  his  rifle  over 
his  left  shoulder,  and  leading  Jack  by  a  string  with 
his  right  hand.  Behind  them  slouched  Tall  Tom 
with  his  rifle  and  Dolph  and  Rube,  each  with  a 

1 60 


ON  TRIAL  FOR  HIS  LIFE 

huge  old-fashioned  horse-pistol  swinging  from  his 
right  hip.  Last  strode  the  school-master.  The 
cabin  was  left  deserted — the  hospitable  door  held 
closed  by  a  deer-skin  latch  caught  to  a  wooden  pin 
outside. 

It  was  a  strange  humiliation  to  Jack  thus  to  be 
led  along  the  highway,  like  a  criminal  going  to  the 
gallows.  There  was  no  power  on  earth  that  could 
have  moved  him  from  Chad's  side,  other  than  the 
boy's  own  command — but  old  Joel  had  sworn  that 
he  would  keep  the  dog  tied  and  the  old  hunter  al 
ways  kept  his  word.  He  had  sworn,  too,  that  Jack 
should  have  a  fair  trial.  Therefore,  the  guns — and 
the  school-master  walked  with  his  hands  behind 
him  and  his  eyes  on  the  ground:  he  feared  trouble. 

Half  a  mile  up  the  river  and  to  one  side  of  the 
road,  a  space  of  some  thirty  feet  square  had  been 
cut  into  a  patch  of  rhododendron  and  filled  with 
rude  benches  of  slabs — in  front  of  which  was  a 
rough  platform  on  which  sat  a  home-made,  cane- 
bottomed  chair.  Except  for  the  opening  from  the 
road,  the  space  was  walled  with  a  circle  of  living 
green  through  which  the  sun  dappled  the  benches 
with  quivering  disks  of  yellow  light — and,  high 
above,  great  poplars  and  oaks  arched  their  mighty 
heads.  It  was  an  open-air  "  meeting-house  "  where 
the  circuit-rider  preached  during  his  summer  cir 
cuit  and  there  the  trial  was  to  take  place. 

Already  a  crowd  was  idling,  whittling,  gossiping 
161 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

in  the  road,  when  the  Turner  cavalcade  came  in 
sight — and  for  ten  miles  up  and  down  the  river 
people  were  coming  in  for  the  trial. 

"Mornin',  gentlemen,"  said  old  Joel,  gravely. 

"Mornin',"  answered  several,  among  whom  was 
the  Squire,  who  eyed  Joel's  gun  and  the  guns  com 
ing  up  the  road. 

"Squirrel-huntin'  ?"  he  asked  and,  as  the  old 
hunter  did  not  answer,  he  added,  sharply: 

"Air  you  afeerd,  Joel  Turner,  that  you  ain't 
a-goin'  to  git  justice  from  me?" 

"I  don't  keer  whar  it  comes  from,"  said  Joel, 
grimly — "but  I'm  a-goin'  to  have  it." 

It  was  plain  that  the  old  man  not  only  was  mak 
ing  no  plea  for  sympathy,  but  was  alienating  the  lit 
tle  he  had:  and  what  he  had  was  very  little — for 
who  but  a  lover  of  dogs  can  give  full  sympathy  to 
his  kind  ?  And,  then,  Jack  was  believed  to  be 
guilty.  It  was  curious  to  see  how  each  Dillon 
shrank  unconsciously  as  the  Turners  gathered — all 
but  Jerry,  one  of  the  giant  twins.  He  always 
stood  his  ground — fearing  not  man,  nor  dog— 
nor  devil. 

Ten  minutes  later,  the  Squire  took  his  seat  on 
the  platform,  while  the  circuit-rider  squatted  down 
beside  him.  The  crowd,  men  and  women  and  chil 
dren,  took  the  rough  benches.  To  one  side  sat  and 
stood  the  Dillons,  old  Tad  and  little  Tad,  Daws, 

162 


ON  TRIAL  FOR  HIS  LIFE 

Nance,  and  others  of  the  tribe.  Straight  in  front 
of  the  Squire  gathered  the  Turners  about  Melissa 
and  Chad  and  Jack  as  a  centre — with  Jack  squat 
ted  on  his  haunches  foremost  of  all,  facing  the 
Squire  with  grave  dignity  and  looking  at  none 
else  save,  occasionally,  the  old  hunter  or  his  little 
master. 

To  the  right  stood  the  sheriff  with  his  rifle,  and 
on  the  outskirts  hung  the  school-master.  Quickly 
the  old  Squire  chose  a  jury — giving  old  Joel  the 
opportunity  to  object  as  he  called  each  man's  name. 
Old  Joel  objected  to  none,  for  every  man  called,  he 
knew,  was  more  friendly  to  him  than  to  the  Dil 
lons  :  and  old  Tad  Dillon  raised  no  word  of  pro 
test,  for  he  knew  his  case  was  clear.  Then  began 
the  trial,  and  any  soul  that  was  there  would  have 
shuddered  could  he  have  known  how  that  trial  was 
to  divide  neighbor  against  neighbor,  and  mean 
death  and  bloodshed  for  half  a  century  after  the 
trial  itself  was  long  forgotten. 

The  first  witness,  old  Tad — long,  lean,  stoop 
ing,  crafty — had  seen  the  sheep  rushing  wildly  up 
the  hill-side  "  'bout  crack  o'  day,"  he  said,  and  had 
sent  Daws  up  to  see  what  the  matter  was.  Daws 
had  shouted  back: 

"That  damned  Turner  dog  has  killed  one  o*  our 
sheep.  Thar  he  comes  now.  Kill  him!"  And  old 
Tad  had  rushed  in-doors  for  his  rifle  and  had  taken 
a  shot  at  Jack  as  he  leaped  into  the  road  and  looed 

163 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

for  home.     Just  then  a  stern,  thick  little  voice  rose 
from  behind  Jack: 

"  Hit  was  a  God's  blessin'  fer  you  that  you  didn't 
hit  him." 

The  Squire  glared  down  at  the  boy  and  old  Joel 
said,  kindly: 

"Hush,  Chad." 

Old  Dillon  had  then  gone  down  to  the  Turners 
and  asked  them  to  kill  the  dog,  but  old  Joel  had  re 
fused. 

"Whar  was  Whizzer?"  Chad  asked,  sharply. 

"You  can't  axe  that  question,"  said  the  Squire. 
"  Hit's  er-er-irrelevant." 

Daws  came  next.  When  he  reached  the  fence 
upon  the  hill-side  he  could  see  the  sheep  lying  still 
on  the  ground.  As  he  was  climbing  over,  the  Tur 
ner  dog  jumped  the  fence  and  Daws  saw  blood  on 
his  muzzle. 

"How  close  was  you  to  him  ?"  asked  the  Squire. 

"  'Bout  twenty  feet,"  said  Daws. 

"Humph!"  said  old  Joel. 

"Whar  was  Whizzer?"  Again  the  old  Squire 
glared  down  at  Chad. 

"  Don't  you  axe  that  question  again,  boy.  Didn't 
I  tell  you  hit  was  irrelevant  ?" 

"What's  irrelevant?"  the  boy  asked,  bluntly. 

The   Squire  hesitated.     "Why — why,   hit  ain't 
got  nothin'  to  do  with  the  case." 
3  "Hit  ain't?"  shouted  Chad. 

164. 


ON  TRIAL  FOR  HIS  LIFE 

"Joel,"  said  the  Squire,  testily,  "ef  you  don't 
keep  that  boy  still,  I'll  fine  him  fer  contempt  o' 
court." 

Joel  laughed,  but  he  put  his  heavy  hand  on  the 
boy's  shoulder.  Little  Tad  Dillon  and  Nance  and 
the  Dillon  mother  had  all  seen  Jack  running  down 
the  road.  There  was  no  doubt  but  that  it  was  the 
Turner  dog.  And  with  this  clear  case  against  poor 
Jack,  the  Dillons  rested.  And  what  else  could  the 
Turners  do  but  establish  Jack's  character  and  put 
in  a  plea  of  mercy — a  useless  plea,  old  Joel  knew 
— for  a  first  offence  ?  Jack  was  the  best  dog  old 
Joel  had  ever  known,  and  the  old  man  told  won 
derful  tales  of  the  dog's  intelligence  and  kindness 
and  how  one  night  Jack  had  guarded  a  stray  lamb 
that  had  broken  its  leg — until  daybreak — and  he 
had  been  led  to  the  dog  and  the  sheep  by  Jack's 
barking  for  help.  The  Turner  boys  confirmed  this 
story,  though  it  was  received  with  incredulity. 

How  could  a  dog  that  would  guard  one  lone 
helpless  lamb  all  night  long  take  the  life  of  an 
other  ? 

There  was  no  witness  that  had  aught  but  kind 
words  to  say  of  the  dog  or  aught  but  wonder  that 
he  should  have  done  this  thing — even  back  to  the 
cattle-dealer  who  had  given  him  to  Chad.  For  at 
that  time  the  dealer  said — so  testified  Chad,  no  ob 
jection  being  raised  to  hearsay  evidence — that  Jack 
was  the  best  dog  he  ever  knew.  That  was  all  the 

165 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

Turners  or  anybody  could  do  or  say,  and  the  old 
Squire  was  about  to  turn  the  case  over  to  the  jury 
when  Chad  rose: 

"Squire,"  he  said  and  his  voice  trembled, 
"Jack's  my  dog.  I  lived  with  him  night  an'  day 
for  'bout  three  years  an'  I  want  to  axe  some  ques 
tions." 

He  turned  to  Daws: 

"  I  want  to  axe  you  ef  thar  was  any  blood  around 
that  sheep." 

'Thar  was  a  great  big  pool  o'  blood,"  said 
Daws,  indignantly.  Chad  looked  at  the  Squire. 

"Well,  a  sheep-killin'  dog  don't  leave  no  great 
big  pool  o'  blood,  Squire,  with  the  fust  one  he  kills! 
He  sucks  it!"  Several  men  nodded  their  heads. 

"Squire!  The  fust  time  I  come  over  these 
mountains,  the  fust  people  I  seed  was  these  Dil 
lons — an'  Whizzer.  They  sicked  Whizzer  on 
Jack  hyeh  and  Jack  whooped  him.  Then  Tad 
thar  jumped  me  and  I  whooped  him."  (The  Tur 
ner  boys  were  nodding  confirmation.)  "  Sence  that 
time  they've  hated  Jack  an'  they've  hated  me  and 
they  hate  the  Turners  partly  fer  takin'  keer  o'  me. 
Now  you  said  somethin'  I  axed  just  now  was  ir 
relevant,  but  I  tell  you,  Squire,  I  know  a  sheep- 
killin'  dawg,  and  jes'  as  I  know  Jack  ain't,  I  know 
the  Dillon  dawg  naturely  is,  and  I  tell  you,  if  the 
Dillons'  dawg  killed  that  sheep  and  they  could  put 
it  on  Jack — they'd  do  it.  They'd  do  it — Squire. 

166 


ON  TRIAL  FOR  HIS  LIFE 

an'  I  tell  you,  you — ortern't — to  let — that — sheriff 
— thar — shoot  my — dog— until  the  Dillons  an 
swers  what  I  axed—  "  the  boy's  passionate  cry  rang 
against  the  green  walls  and  out  the  opening  and 
across  the  river — 

"Char's  Whizzer?" 

The  boy  startled  the  crowd  and  the  old  Squire 
himself,  who  turned  quickly  to  the  Dillons. 

"Well,  wharisWhizzer?" 

Nobody  answered. 

"He  ain't  been  seen,  Squire,  sence  the  evenin' 
afore  the  night  o'  the  killin'!"  Chad's  statement 
seemed  to  be  true.  Not  a  voice  contradicted. 

"An'  I  want  to  know  if  Daws  seed  signs  o' killin' 
on  Jack's  head  when  he  jumped  the  fence,  why 
them  same  signs  didn't  show  when  he  got  home." 

Poor  Chad!  Here  old  Tad  Dillon  raised  his 
hand. 

"Axe  the  Turners,  Squire/'  he  said,  and  as  the 
school-master  on  the  outskirts  shrank,  as  though  he 
meant  to  leave  the  crowd,  the  old  man's  quick  eye 
caught  the  movement  and  he  added: 

"Axe  the  school-teacher!" 

Every  eye  turned  with  the  Squire's  to  the  mas 
ter,  whose  face  was  strangely  serious  straightway. 

"  Did  you  see  any  signs  on  the  dawg  when  he  got 
home  ?"  The  gaunt  man  hesitated  with  one  swift 
glance  at  the  boy,  who  almost  paled  in  answer. 

"Why,"   said  the  school-master,  and  again  he 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM   COME 

hesitated,  but  old  Joel,  in  a  voice  that  was  without 
hope,  encouraged  him: 

"Go  on!" 

"  What  wus  they?" 

"Jack  had  blood  on  his  muzzle,  and  a  little 
strand  o'  wool  behind  one  ear." 

There  was  no  hope  against  that  testimony.  Me 
lissa  broke  away  from  her  mother  and  ran  out  to 
the  road — weeping.  Chad  dropped  with  a  sob  to 
his  bench  and  put  his  arms  around  the  dog:  then 
he  rose  up  and  walked  out  the  opening  while  Jack 
leaped  against  his  leash  to  follow.  The  school 
master  put  out  his  hand  to  stop  him,  but  the  boy 
struck  it  aside  without  looking  up  and  went  on:  he 
could  not  stay  to  see  Jack  condemned.  He  knew 
what  the  verdict  would  be,  and  in  twenty  minutes 
the  jury  gave  it,  without  leaving  their  seats. 

"Guilty!" 

The  Sheriff  came  forward.  He  knew  Jack  and 
Jack  knew  him,  and  wagged  his  tail  and  whimpered 
up  at  him  when  he  took  the  leash. 

"Well,  by  -  — ,  this  is  a  job  I  don't  like,  an' 
I'm  damned  ef  I'm  agoin'  to  shoot  this  dawg  afore 
he  knows  what  I'm  shootin'  him  fer.  I'm  goin'  to 
show  him  that  sheep  fust.  Whar's  that  sheep, 
Daws?" 

Daws  led  the  way  down  the  road,  over  the  fence, 
across  the  meadow,  and  up  the  hill-side  where  lay 
the  slain  sheep.  Chad  and  Melissa  saw  them  com- 

168 


ON  TRIAL  FOR  HIS  LIFE 

ing — the  whole  crowd — before  they  themselves 
were  seen.  For  a  minute  the  boy  watched  them. 
They  were  going  to  kill  Jack  where  the  Dillons 
said  he  had  killed  the  sheep,  and  the  boy  jumped 
to  his  feet  and  ran  up  the  hill  a  little  way  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  bushes,  that  he  might  not  hear 
Jack's  death-shot,  while  Melissa  sat  where  she  was, 
watching  the  crowd  come  on.  Daws  was  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  and  she  saw  him  make  a  gesture 
toward  her,  and  then  the  Sheriff  came  on  with  Jack 
— over  the  fence,  past  her,  the  Sheriff  saying, 
kindly,  ''Howdy,  Melissa.  I  shorely  am  sorry  to 
have  to  kill  Jack,"  and  on  to  the  dead  sheep,  which 
lay  fifty  yards  beyond.  If  the  Sheriff  expected 
Jack  to  drop  head  and  tail  and  look  mean  he  was 
greatly  mistaken.  Jack  neither  hung  back  nor 
sniffed  at  the  carcass.  Instead  he  put  one  fore  foot 
on  it  and  with  the  other  bent  in  the  air,  looked 
without  shame  into  the  Sheriff's  eyes — as  much  as 
to  say: 

"Yes,  this  is  a  wicked  and  shameful  thing,  but 
what  have  I  got  to  do  with  it  ?  Why  are  you  bring 
ing  me  here  ?" 

The  Sheriff  came  back  greatly  puzzled  and 
shaking  his  head.  Passing  Melissa,  he  stopped  to 
let  the  unhappy  little  girl  give  Jack  a  last  pat,  and 
it  was  there  that  Jack  suddenly  caught  scent  of 
Chad's  tracks.  With  one  mighty  bound  the  dog 
snatched  the  rawhide  string  from  the  careless 

169 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

Sheriff's  hand,  and  in  a  moment,  with  his  nose  to 
the  ground,  was  speeding  up  toward  the  woods. 
With  a  startled  yell  and  a  frightful  oath  the  Sheriff 
threw  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  but  the  little  girl 

7  O 

sprang  up  and  caught  the  barrel  with  both  hands, 
shaking  it  fiercely  up  and  down  and  hieing  Jack  on 
with  shriek  after  shriek.  A  minute  later  Jack  had 
disappeared  in  the  bushes,  Melissa  wras  running 
like  the  wind  down  the  hill  toward  home,  while  the 
whole  crowd  in  the  meadow  was  rushing  up  toward 
the  Sheriff,  led  by  the  Dillons,  who  were  yelling 
and  swearing  like  madmen.  Above  them,  the 
crestfallen  Sheriff  waited.  The  Dillons  crowded 
angrily  about  him,  gesticulating  and  threatening, 
while  he  told  his  story.  But  nothing  could  be  done 
— nothing.  They  did  not  know  that  Chad  was  up 
in  the  woods  or  they  would  have  gone  in  search  of 
him — knowing  that  when  they  found  him  they 
would  find  Jack — but  to  look  for  Jack  now  would 
be  like  searching  for  a  needle  in  a  hay-stack.  There 
was  nothing  to  do,  then,  but  to  wait  for  Jack  to 
come  home,  which  he  would  surely  do — to  get  to 
Chad — and  it  was  while  old  Joel  was  promising 
that  the  dog  should  be  surrendered  to  the  Sheriff 
that  little  Tad  Dillon  gave  an  excited  shriek. 
"Lookupthar!" 

And  up  there  at  the  edge  of  the  wood  was  Chad 
standing    and,    at    his    feet,    Jack    sitting   on    his 

170 


ON  TRIAL  FOR  HIS  LIFE 

haunches,  with  his  tongue  out  and  looking  as 
though  nothing  had  happened  or  could  ever  hap 
pen  to  Chad  or  to  him. 

"Come  up  hyeh,"  shouted  Chad. 

"You  come  down  hyeh,"  shouted  the  Sheriff, 
angrily.  So  Chad  came  down,  with  Jack  trotting 
after  him.  Chad  had  cut  off  the  rawhide  string, 
but  the  Sheriff  caught  Jack  by  the  nape  of  the 
neck. 

"You  won't  git  away  from  me  agin,  I  reckon." 

"Well,  I  reckon  you  ain't  goin'  to  shoot  him," 
said  Chad.  "Leggo  that  dawg." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Jim,"  said  old  Joel.  "The 
dawg  ain't  goin'  to  leave  the  boy."  The  Sheriff 
let  go. 

"Come  on  up  hyeh,"  said  Chad.  "I  got  some- 
thin'  to  show  ye." 

The  boy  turned  with  such  certainty  that  with 
out  a  word  Squire,  Sheriff,  Turners,  Dillons,  and 
spectators  followed.  As  they  approached  a  deep 
ravine  the  boy  pointed  to  the  ground  where  were 
evidences  of  some  fierce  struggle — the  dirt  thrown 
up,  and  several  small  stones  scattered  about  with 
faded  stains  of  blood  on  them. 

"Wait  hyeh!"  said  the  boy,  and  he  slid  down 
the  ravine  and  appeared  again  dragging  something 
after  him.  Tall  Tom  ran  down  to  help  him  and  the 
two  threw  before  the  astonished  crowd  the  body 
of  a  black  and  white  dog. 

171 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

"Now  I  reckon  you  know  whar  Whizzer  is," 
panted  Chad  vindictively  to  the  Dillons. 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  snapped  Daws. 

"Oh,  nothin',"  said  the  boy  with  fine  sarcasm. 
"Only  Whizzer  killed  that  sheep  and  Jack  killed 
Whizzer."  From  every  Dillon  throat  came  a 
scornful  grunt. 

"Oh,  I  reckon  so,"  said  Chad,  easily.  "Look 
thar!"  He  lifted  the  dead  dog's  head,  and  pointed 
at  the  strands  of  wool  between  his  teeth.  He 
turned  it  over,  showing  the  deadly  grip  in  the 
throat  and  close  to  the  jaws,  that  had  choked  the 
life  from  Whizzer — Jack's  own  grip. 

"Ef  you  will  jes'  rickollect,  Jack  had  that  same 
grip  the  time  afore — when  I  pulled  him  off  o' 
Whizzer." 

"By ,  that's  so,"  said  Tall  Tom,  and  Dolph 

and  Rube  echoed  him  amid  a  dozen  voices,  for 
not  only  old  Joel,  but  many  of  his  neighbors  knew 
Jack's  method  of  fighting,  which  had  made  him  a 
victor  up  and  down  the  length  of  Kingdom  Come. 

There  was  little  doubt  that  the  boy  was  right- 
that  Jack  had  come  on  Whizzer  killing  the  sheep, 
and  had  caught  him  at  the  edge  of  the  ravine, 
where  the  two  had  fought,  rolling  down  and  set 
tling  the  old  feud  between  them  in  the  darkness  at 
the  bottom.  And  up  there  on  the  hill-side,  the 
jury  that  pronounced  Jack  guilty  pronounced  him 
innocent,  and,  as  the  Turners  started  joyfully 

172 


ON  TRIAL  FOR  HIS  LIFE 

down  the  hill,  the  sun  that  was  to  have  sunk  on 
Jack  stiff  in  death  sank  on  Jack  frisking  before 
them — home. 

And  yet  another  wonder  was  in  store  for  Chad. 
A  strange  horse  with  a  strange  saddle  was  hitched 
to  the  Turner  fence;  beside  it  was  an  old  mare  with 
a  boy's  saddle,  and  as  Chad  came  through  the  gate 
a  familiar  voice  called  him  cheerily  by  name.  On 
the  porch  sat  Major  Buford. 


XIV 

HE    MAJOR   IN   THE    MOUNTAINS 

'  I  AHE  quivering  heat  of  August  was  giving  way 
and  the  golden  peace  of  autumn  was  spread 
ing  through  the  land.  The  breath  of  mountain 
woods  by  day  was  as  cool  as  the  breath  of  valleys 
at  night.  In  the  mountains,  boy  and  girl  were 
leaving  school  for  work  in  the  fields,  and  from  the 
Cumberland  foothills  to  the  Ohio,  boy  and  girl 
were  leaving  happy  holidays  for  school.  Along  a 
rough,  rocky  road  and  down  a  shining  river,  now 
sunk  to  deep  pools  with  trickling  riffles  between — 
for  a  drouth  was  on  the  land — rode  a  tall,  gaunt 
man  on  an  old  brown  mare  that  switched  with  her 
tail  now  and  then  at  a  long-legged,  rough-haired 
colt  stumbling  awkwardly  behind.  Where  the  road 
turned  from  the  river  and  up  the  mountain,  the 
man  did  a  peculiar  thing,  for  there,  in  that  lonely 
wilderness,  he  stopped,  dismounted,  tied  the  reins 
to  an  overhanging  branch  and,  leaving  mare  and 
colt  behind,  strode  up  the  mountain,  on  and  on,  dis 
appearing  over  the  top.  Half  an  hour  later,  a 
sturdy  youth  hove  in  sight,  trudging  along  the  same 
road  with  his  cap  in  his  hand,  a  long  rifle  over  one 

174 


THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

shoulder  and  a  dog  trotting  at  his  heels.  Now  and 
then  the  boy  would  look  back  and  scold  the  dog  and 
the  dog  would  drop  his  muzzle  with  shame,  until 
the  boy  stooped  to  pat  him  on  the  head,  when  he 
would  leap  frisking  before  him,  until  another  af 
fectionate  scolding  was  due.  The  old  mare  turned 
her  head  when  she  heard  them  coming,  and  nick 
ered.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  the  lad  un 
tied  her,  mounted  and  rode  up  the  mountain.  For 
two  days  the  man  and  the  boy  had  been  "  riding  and 
tying,"  as  this  way  of  travel  for  two  men  and  one 
horse  is  still  known  in  the  hills,  and  over  the  moun 
tain,  they  were  to  come  together  for  the  night.  At 
the  foot  of  the  spur  on  the  other  side,  boy  and  dog 
came  upon  the  tall  man  sprawled  at  full  length 
across  a  moss-covered  bowlder.  The  dog  dropped 
behind,  but  the  man's  quick  eye  caught  him: 

"Where'd  that  dog  come  from,  Chad  ?"  Jack 
put  his  belly  to  the  earth  and  crawled  slowly  for 
ward — penitent,  but  determined. 

"He  broke  loose,  I  reckon.  He  come  tearin'  up 
behind  me  'bout  an  hour  ago,  like  a  house  afire. 
Let  him  go."  Caleb  Hazel  frowned. 

"I  told  you,  Chad,  that  we'd  have  no  place  to 
keep  him." 

"Well,  we  can  send  him  home  as  easy  from  up 
thar  as  we  can  from  hyeh — let  him  go." 

"All  right!"  Chad  understood  not  a  whit  bet 
ter  than  the  dog;  for  Jack  leaped  to  his  feet  and 

175 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

jumped  around  the  school-master,  trying  to  lick  his 
hands,  but  the  school-master  was  absorbed  and 
would  none  of  him.  There,  the  mountain-path 
turned  into  a  wagon-road  and  the  school-master 
pointed  with  one  ringer. 

"Do  you  know  what  that  is,  Chad  ?" 

"No,  sir."  Chad  said  "sir"  to  the  school-mas 
ter  now. 

"Well,  that's" — the  school-master  paused  to 
give  his  words  effect — "that's  the  old  Wilderness 
Road." 

Ah,  did  he  not  know  the  old,  old  Wilderness 
Road!  The  boy  gripped  his  rifle  unconsciously, as 
though  there  might  yet  be  a  savage  lying  in  am 
bush  in  some  covert  of  rhododendron  close  by. 
And,  as  they  trudged  ahead,  side  by  side  now,  for 
it  was  growing  late,  the  school-master  told  him,  as 
often  before,  the  story  of  that  road  and  the  pio 
neers  who  had  trod  it — the  hunters,  adventurers, 
emigrants,  fine  ladies  and  fine  gentlemen  who  had 
stained  it  with  their  blood;  and  how  that  road  had 
broadened  into  the  mighty  way  for  a  great  civiliza 
tion  from  sea  to  sea.  The  lad  could  see  it  all,  as  he 
listened,  wishing  that  he  had  lived  in  those  stirring 
days,  never  dreaming  in  how  little  was  he  of  differ 
ent  mould  from  the  stout-hearted  pioneers  who  beat 
out  the  path  with  their  moccasined  feet;  how  little 
less  full  of  danger  were  his  own  days  to  be;  how  lit 
tle  different  had  been  his  own  life,  and  was  his  our- 

176 


THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

pose  now — how  little  different  after  all  was  the 
bourn  to  which  his  own  restless  feet  were  bearing 
him. 

Chad  had  changed  a  good  deal  since  that  night 
after  Jack's  trial,  when  the  kind-hearted  old  Ma 
jor  had  turned  up  at  Joel's  cabin  to  take  him  back 
to  the  Bluegrass.  He  was  taller,  broader  at  shoul 
der,  deeper  of  chest;  his  mouth  and  eyes  were 
prematurely  grave  from  much  brooding  and  looked 
a  little  defiant,  as  though  the  boy  expected  hostility 
from  the  world  and  was  prepared  to  meet  it,  but 
there  was  no  bitterness  in  them,  and  luminous  about 
the  lad  was  the  old  atmosphere  of  brave,  sunny 
cheer  and  simple  self-trust  that  won  people  to  him. 

The  Major  and  old  Joel  had  talked  late  that 
night  after  Jack's  trial.  The  Major  had  come 
down  to  find  out  who  Chad  was,  if  possible,  and  to 
take  him  back  home,  no  matter  who  he  might  be. 
The  old  hunter  looked  long  into  the  fire. 

"Co'se  I  know  hit  'ud  be  better  fer  Chad,  but, 
Lawd,  how  we'd  hate  to  give  him  up.  Still,  I 
reckon  I'll  have  to  let  him  go,  but  I  can  stand  hit 
better,  if  you  can  git  him  to  leave  Jack  hyeh."  The 
Major  smiled.  Did  old  Joel  know  where  Nathan 
Cherry  lived  ?  The  old  hunter  did.  Nathan  was 
a  "damned  old  skinflint  who  lived  across  the  moun 
tain  on  Stone  Creek — who  stole  other  folks'  farms 
and  if  he  knew  anything  about  Chad  the  old  hunt 
er  would  squeeze  it  out  of  his  throat;  and  if  old 

177 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Nathan,  learning  where  Chad  now  was,  tried  to 
pester  him  he  would  break  every  bone  in  the  skin 
flint's  body."  So  the  Major  and  old  Joel  rode  over 
next  day  to  see  Nathan,  and  Nathan  with  his  shift 
ing  eyes  told  them  Chad's  story  in  a  high,  cracked 
voice  that,  recalling  Chad's  imitation  of  it,  made 
the  Major  laugh.  Chad  was  a  foundling,  Nathan 
said:  his  mother  was  dead  and  his  father  had  gone 
of?  to  the  Mexican  War  and  never  come  back:  he 
had  taken  the  mother  in  himself  and  Chad  had  been 
born  in  his  own  house,  when  he  lived  farther  up  the 
river,  and  the  boy  had  begun  to  run  away  as  soon 
as  he  was  old  enough  to  toddle.  And  with  each 
sentence  Nathan  would  call  for  confirmation  on  a 
silent,  dark-faced  daughter  who  sat  inside :  "Didn't 
he,  Betsy?"  or  "Wasn't  he,  gal?"  And  the  girl 
would  nod  sullenly,  but  say  nothing.  It  seemed  a 
hopeless  mission  except  that,  on  the  way  back,  the 
Major  learned  that  there  were  one  or  two  Bufords 
living  down  the  Cumberland,  and  like  old  Joel, 
shook  his  head  over  Nathan's  pharisaical  philan 
thropy  to  a  homeless  boy  and  wondered  what  the 
motive  under  it  was — but  he  went  back  wTith  the 
old  hunter  and  tried  to  get  Chad  to  go  home  with 
him.  The  boy  was  rock-firm  in  his  refusal. 

"I'm  obleeged  to  you,  Major,  but  I  reckon  I  bet 
ter  stay  in  the  mountains."  That  was  all  Chad 
would  say,  and  at  last  the  Major  gave  up  and  rode 
back  over  the  mountain  and  down  the  Cumberland 

178 


THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

alone,  still  on  his  quest.  At  a  blacksmith's  shop 
far  down  the  river  he  found  a  man  who  had  "heerd 
tell  of  a  Chad  Buford  who  had  been  killed  in  the 
Mexican  War  and  whose  daddy  lived  'bout  fifteen 
mile  down  the  river."  The  Major  found  that  Bu 
ford  dead,  but  an  old  woman  told  him  his  name 
was  Chad,  that  he  had  "fit  in  the  War  o'  1812 
when  he  was  nothin'  but  a  chunk  of  a  boy,  and  that 
his  daddy,  whose  name,  too,  was  Chad,  had  been 
killed  by  Injuns  some'eres  aroun'  Cumberland 
Gap."  By  this  time  the  Major  was  as  keen  as  a 
hound  on  the  scent,  and,  in  a  cabin  at  the  foot  of 
the  sheer  gray  wall  that  crumbles  into  the  Gap,  he 
had  the  amazing  luck  to  find  an  octogenarian  with 
an  unclouded  memory  who  could  recollect  a  queer- 
looking  old  man  who  had  been  killed  by  Indians 
-"a  ole  feller  with  the  curiosest  hair  I  ever  did 
see,"  added  the  patriarch.  His  name  was  Colonel 
Buford,  and  the  old  man  knew  where  he  was 
buried,  for  he  himself  was  old  enough  at  the  time 
to  help  bury  him.  Greatly  excited,  the  Major 
hired  mountaineers  to  dig  into  the  little  hill  that  the 
old  man  pointed  out,  on  which  there  was,  however, 
no  sign  of  a  grave,  and,  at  last,  they  uncovered  the 
skeleton  of  an  old  gentleman  in  a  wig  and  peruke! 
There  was  little  doubt  now  that  the  boy,  no  matter 
what  the  blot  on  his  'scutcheon,  was  of  his  own  flesh 
and  blood,  and  the  Major  was  tempted  to  go  back 
at  once  for  him,  but  it  was  a  long  way,  and  he  was 

179 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

ill  and  anxious  to  get  back  home.  So  he  took  the 
Wilderness  Road  for  the  Bluegrass,  and  wrote  old 
Joel  the  facts  and  asked  him  to  send  Chad  to  him 
whenever  he  would  come.  But  the  boy  would  not 
go.  There  was  no  definite  reason  in  his  mind.  It 
was  a  stubborn  instinct  merely — the  instinct  of 
pride,  of  stubborn  independence — of  shame  that 
festered  in  his  soul  like  a  hornet's  sting.  Even  Me 
lissa  urged  him.  She  never  tired  of  hearing  Chad 
tell  about  the  Bluegrass  country,  and  when  she 
knew  that  the  Major  wanted  him  to  go  back,  she 
followed  him  out  in  the  yard  that  night  and  found 
him  on  the  fence  whittling.  A  red  star  was  sink 
ing  behind  the  mountains.  "Why  won't  you  go 
back  no  more,  Chad  ?"  she  said. 

"  'Cause  I  hain't  got  no  daddy  er  mammy." 
Then  Melissa  startled  him. 

"Well,  I'd  go — an'  /  hain't  got  no  daddy  er 
mammy."  Chad  stopped  his  whittling. 

"Whut'd  you  say,  Lissy?"  he  asked,  gravely. 

Melissa  was  frightened — the  boy  looked  so  se 
rious. 

"Cross  yo*  heart  an*  body  that  you  won't  nuver 
tell  no  body."  Chad  crossed. 

"Well,  mammy  said  I  mustn't  ever  tell  nobody 
—but  I  hain't  got  no  daddy  er  mammy.  I  heerd 
her  a-tellin'  the  school-teacher."  And  the  little  girl 
shook  her  head  over  her  frightful  crime  of  diso 
bedience. 

1 80 


THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

"You  hain't?" 

"I  hain't!" 

Melissa,  too,  was  a  waif,  and  Chad  looked  at 
her  with  a  wave  of  new  affection  and  pity. 

"Now,  why  won't  you  go  back  just  because  you 
hain't  got  no  daddy  an'  mammy  ?" 

Chad  hesitated.  There  was  no  use  making  Me 
lissa  unhappy. 

"Oh, I'd  just  ruther  stay  hyeh  in  the  mountains," 
he  said,  carelessly — lying  suddenly  like  the  little 
gentleman  that  he  was — lying  as  he  knew,  and  as 
Melissa  some  day  would  come  to  know.  Then 
Chad  looked  at  the  little  girl  a  long  while,  and  in 
such  a  queer  way  that  Melissa  turned  her  face  shyly 
to  the  red  star. 

"I'm  goin'  to  stay  right  hyeh.     Ain't  you  glad, 

13  " 
>issy  r 

The  little  girl  turned  her  eyes  shyly  back  again. 
"Yes,  Chad,"  she  said. 

He  would  stay  in  the  mountains  and  work  hard; 
and  when  he  grew  up  he  would  marry  Melissa  and 
they  would  go  away  where  nobody  knew  him  or 
her:  or  they  would  stay  right  there  in  the  moun 
tains  where  nobody  blamed  him  for  what  he  was 
nor  Melissa  for  what  she  was;  and  he  would  study 
law  like  Caleb  Hazel,  and  go  to  the  Legislature — 
but  Melissa!  And  with  the  thought  of  Melissa  in 
the  mountains  came  always  the  thought  of  dainty 
Margaret  in  the  Bluegrass  and  the  chasm  that  lay 

181 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM   COME 

between  the  two — between  Margaret  and  him,  for 
that  matter;  and  when  Mother  Turner  called  Me 
lissa  from  him  in  the  orchard  next  day,  Chad  lay  on 
his  back  under  an  apple-tree,  for  a  long  while,  think 
ing;  and  then  he  whistled  for  Jack  and  climbed  the 
spur  above  the  river  where  he  could  look  down  on 
the  shadowed  water  and  out  to  the  clouded  heaps  of 
rose  and  green  and  crimson,  where  the  sun  was  go 
ing  down  under  one  faint  white  star.  Melissa  was 
the  glow-worm  that,  when  darkness  came,  would 
be  a  watch-fire  at  his  feet — Margaret,  the  star  to 
which  his  eyes  were  lifted  night  and  day — and  so 
runs  the  world.  He  lay  long  watching  that  star. 
It  hung  almost  over  the  world  of  which  he  had 
dreamed  so  long  and  upon  which  he  had  turned 
his  back  forever.  Forever  ?  Perhaps,  but  he  went 
back  home  that  night  with  a  trouble  in  his  soul  that 
was  not  to  pass,  and  while  he  sat  by  the  fire  he 
awoke  from  the  same  dream  to  find  Melissa's  big 
eyes  fixed  on  him,  and  in  them  was  a  vague  trouble 
that  was  more  than  his  own  reflected  back  to  him. 
Still  the  boy  went  back  sturdily  to  his  old  life, 
working  in  the  fields,  busy  about  the  house  and 
stable,  going  to  school,  reading  and  studying  with 
the  school-master  at  nights,  and  wandering  in  the 
woods  with  Jack  and  his  rifle.  And  he  hungered 
for  spring  to  come  again  when  he  should  go  with 
the  Turner  boys  to  take  another  raft  of  logs  down 
the  river  to  the  capital.  Spring  came,  and  going 

182 


THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

out  to  the  back  pasture  one  morning,  Chad  found 
a  long-legged,  ungainly  creature  stumbling  awk 
wardly  about  his  old  mare — a  colt!  That,  too,  he 
owed  the  Major,  and  he  would  have  burst  with 
pride  had  he  known  that  the  colt's  sire  was  a  fa 
mous  stallion  in  the  Bluegrass.  That  spring  he 
did  go  down  the  river  again.  He  did  not  let  the 
Major  know  he  was  coming  and,  through  a  name 
less  shyness,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  go  to 
see  his  old  friend  and  kinsman,  but  in  Lexington, 
while  he  and  the  school-master  were  standing  on 
Cheapside,  the  Major  whirled  around  a  corner  on 
them  in  his  carriage,  and,  as  on  the  turnpike  a  year 
before,  old  Tom,  the  driver,  called  out: 

"Look  dar,  Mars  Cal ! "     And  there  stood  Chad. 

"Why,  bless  my  soul!  Chad — why,  boy!  How 
you  have  grown!"  For  Chad  had  grown,  and  his 
face  was  curiously  aged  and  thoughtful.  The  Ma 
jor  insisted  on  taking  him  home,  and  the  school 
master,  too,  who  went  reluctantly.  Miss  Lucy 
was  there,  looking  whiter  and  more  fragile  than 
ever,  and  she  greeted  Chad  with  a  sweet  kindli 
ness  that  took  the  sting  from  his  unjust  remem 
brance  of  her.  And  what  that  failure  to  under 
stand  her  must  have  been  Chad  better  knew  when 
he  saw  the  embarrassed  awe,  in  her  presence,  of 
the  school-master,  for  whom  all  in  the  mountains 
had  so  much  reverence.  At  the  table  was  Thanky- 
ma'am  waiting.  Around  the  quarters  and  the  sta- 

183 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

ble  the  pickaninnies  and  servants  seemed  to  remem 
ber  the  boy  in  a  kindly  genuine  way  that  touched 
him,  and  even  Jerome  Conners,  the  overseer, 
seemed  glad  to  see  him.  The  Major  was  drawn  at 
once  to  the  grave  school-master,  and  he  had  a  long 
talk  with  him  that  night.  It  was  no  use,  Caleb 
Hazel  said,  trying  to  persuade  the  boy  to  live  with 
the  Major — not  yet.  And  the  Major  was  more 
content  when  he  came  to  know  in  what  good  hands 
the  boy  was,  and,  down  in  his  heart,  he  loved  the 
lad  the  more  for  his  sturdy  independence,  and  for 
the  pride  that  made  him  shrink  from  facing  the 
world  with  the  shame  of  his  birth;  knowing  that 
Chad  thought  of  him  perhaps  more  than  of  him 
self.  Such  unwillingness  to  give  others  trouble 
seemed  remarkable  in  so  young  a  lad.  Not  once 
did  the  Major  mention  the  Deans  to  the  boy,  and 
about  them  Chad  asked  no  questions — not  even 
when  he  saw  their  carriage  passing  the  Major's 
gate.  When  they  came  to  leave  the  Major  said: 

"Well,  Chad,  when  that  filly  of  yours  is  a  year 
old,  I'll  buy  'em  both  from  you,  if  you'll  sell  'em,  and 
I  reckon  you  can  come  up  and  go  to  school  then." 

Chad  shook  his  head.  Sell  that  colt  ?  He 
would  as  soon  have  thought  of  selling  Jack.  But 
the  temptation  took  root,  just  the  same,  then  and 
there,  and  grew  steadily  until,  after  another  year 
in  the  mountains,  it  grew  too  strong.  For,  in  that 
year,  Chad  grew  to  look  the  fact  of  his  birth 

184 


THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

steadily  in  the  face,  and  in  his  heart  grew  steadily  a 
proud  resolution  to  make  his  way  in  the  world 
despite  it.  It  was  curious  how  Melissa  came  to 
know  the  struggle  that  was  going  on  within  him 
and  how  Chad  came  to  know  that  she  knew — 
though  no  word  passed  between  them :  more  curious 
still,  how  it  came  with  a  shock  to  Chad  one  day 
to  realize  how  little  was  the  tragedy  of  his  life  in 
comparison  with  the  tragedy  in  hers,  and  to  learn 
that  the  little  girl  with  swift  vision  had  already 
reached  that  truth  and  with  sweet  unselfishness  had 
reconciled  herself.  He  was  a  boy — he  could  go 
out  in  the  world  and  conquer  it,  while  her  life  was 
as  rigid  and  straight  before  her  as  though  it  ran 
between  close  walls  of  rock  as  steep  and  sheer  as 
the  cliff  across  the  river.  One  thing  he  never 
guessed — what  it  cost  the  little  girl  to  support  him 
bravely  in  his  purpose,  and  to  stand  with  smiling 
face  when  the  first  breath  of  one  sombre  autumn 
stole  through  the  hills,  and  Chad  and  the  school 
master  left  the  Turner  home  for  the  Bluegrass, 
this  time  to  stay. 

She  stood  in  the  doorway  after  they  had  waved 
good-by  from  the  head  of  the  river — the  smile  gone 
and  her  face  in  a  sudden  dark  eclipse.  The  wise 
old  mother  went  in-doors.  Once  the  girl  started 
through  the  yard  as  though  she  would  rush  after 
them  and  stopped  at  the  gate,  clinching  it  hard 
with  both  hands.  As  suddenly  she  became  quiet. 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

She  went  in-doors  to  her  work  and  worked  quietly 
and  without  a  word.  Thus  she  did  all  day  while 
her  mind  and  her  heart  ached.  When  she  went 
after  the  cows  before  sunset  she  stopped  at  the 
barn  where  Beelzebub  had  been  tied.  She  lifted 
her  eyes  to  the  hay-loft  where  she  and  Chad  had 
hunted  for  hens'  eggs  and  played  hide-and-seek. 
She  passed  through  the  orchard  where  they  had 
worked  and  played  so  many  happy  hours,  and  on 
to  the  back  pasture  where  the  Dillon  sheep  had 
been  killed  and  she  had  kept  the  Sheriff  from  shoot 
ing  Jack.  And  she  saw  and  noted  everything  with 
a  piteous  pain  and  dry  eyes.  But  she  gave  no  sign 
that  night,  and  not  until  she  was  in  bed  did  she 
with  covered  head  give  way.  Then  the  bed  shook 
with  her  smothered  sobs.  This  is  the  sad  way  with 
women.  After  the  way  of  men,  Chad  proudly 
marched  the  old  Wilderness  Road  that  led  to  a  big, 
bright,  beautiful  world  where  one  had  but  to  do 
and  dare  to  reach  the  stars.  The  men  who  had 
trod  that  road  had  made  that  big  world  beyond, 
and  their  life  Chad  himself  had  lived  so  far.  Only, 
where  they  had  lived  he  had  been  born — in  a  log- 
cabin.  Their  weapons — the  axe  and  the  rifle — 
had  been  his.  He  had  had  the  same  fight  with 
Nature  as  they.  He  knew  as  well  as  they  what  life 
in  the  woods  in  "a  half-faced  camp"  was.  Their 
rude  sports  and  pastimes,  their  log-rollings,  house- 
raisings,  quilting  parties,  corn-huskings,  feats  of 

186 


THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

strength,  had  been  his.  He  had  the  same  lynx  eyes, 
cool  courage,  swiftness  of  foot,  readiness  of  re 
source  that  had  been  trained  into  them.  His  heart 
was  as  stout  and  his  life  as  simple  and  pure.  He 
was  taking  their  path  and,  in  the  far  West,  beyond 
the  Bluegrass  world  where  he  was  going,  he  could, 
if  he  pleased,  take  up  the  same  life  at  the  precise 
point  where  they  had  left  off.  At  sunset,  Chad 
and  the  school-master  stood  on  the  summit  of  the 
Cumberland  foothills  and  looked  over  the  rolling 
land  with  little  less  of  a  thrill,  doubtless,  than  the 
first  hunters  felt  when  the  land  before  them  was 
as  much  a  wilderness  as  the  wilds  through  which 
they  had  made  their  way.  Below  them  a  farm 
house  shrank  half  out  of  sight  into  a  little  hollow, 
and  toward  it  they  went  down. 

The  outside  world  had  moved  swiftly  during 
the  two  years  that  they  had  been  buried  in  the  hills 
as  they  learned  at  the  farm-house  that  night.  Al 
ready  the  national  storm  was  threatening,  the  air 
was  electrically  charged  with  alarms,  and  already 
here  and  there  the  lightning  had  flashed.  The 
underground  railway  was  busy  with  black  freight, 
and  John  Brown,  fanatic,  was  boldly  lifting  his 
shaggy  head.  Old  Brutus  Dean  was  even  publish 
ing  an  abolitionist  paper  at  Lexington,  the  aris 
tocratic  heart  of  the  State.  He  was  making 
abolition  speeches  throughout  the  Bluegrass  with 
a  dagger  thrust  in  the  table  before  him — shaking 

187 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

his  black  mane  and  roaring  defiance  like  a  lion. 
The  news  thrilled  Chad  unaccountably,  as  did  the 
shadow  of  any  danger,  but  it  threw  the  school-mas 
ter  into  gloom.  There  was  more.  A  dark  little 
man  by  the  name  of  Douglas  and  a  sinewy  giant 
by  the  name  of  Lincoln  were  thrilling  the  West. 
Phillips  and  Garrison  were  thundering  in  Massa 
chusetts,  and  fiery  tongues  in  the  South  were  flash 
ing  back  scornful  challenges  and  threats  that  would 
imperil  a  nation.  An  invisible  air-line  shot  sud 
denly  between  the  North  and  the  South,  destined 
to  drop  some  day  and  lie  a  dead-line  on  the  earth, 
and  on  each  side  of  it  two  hordes  of  brothers,  who 
thought  themselves  two  hostile  peoples,  were 
shrinking  away  from  each  other  with  the  half-con 
scious  purpose  of  making  ready  for  a  charge.  In 
no  other  State  in  the  Union  was  the  fratricidal  char 
acter  of  the  coming  war  to  be  so  marked  as  in 
Kentucky,  in  no  other  State  was  the  national  drama 
to  be  so  fully  played  to  the  bitter  end. 

That  night  even,  Brutus  Dean  was  going  to 
speak  near  by,  and  Chad  and  Caleb  Hazel  went  to 
hear  him.  The  fierce  abolitionist  first  placed  a 
Bible  before  him. 

'This  is  for  those  who  believe  in  religion,"  he 
said;  then  a  copy  of  the  Constitution:  "this  for 
those  who  believe  in  the  laws  and  in  freedom  of 
speech.  And  this,"  he  thundered,  driving  a  dag 
ger  into  the  table  and  leaving  it  to  quiver  there,  "is 

188 


THE  MAJOR  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

for  the  rest! "     Then  he  went  on  and  no  man  dared 
to  interrupt. 

And  only  next  day  came  the  rush  of  wind  that 
heralds  the  storm.  Just  outside  of  Lexington  Chad 
and  the  school-master  left  the  mare  and  colt  at 
a  farm-house  and  with  Jack  went  into  town  on  foot. 
It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  the  town  was  full  of 
people,  and  an  excited  crowd  was  pressing  along 
iVIain  Street  toward  Cheapside.  The  man  and  the 
boy  followed  eagerly.  Cheapside  was  thronged — 
thickest  around  a  frame  building  that  bore  a  news 
paper  sign  on  which  was  the  name  of  Brutus  Dean. 
A  man  dashed  from  a  hardware  store  with  an  axe, 
followed  by  several  others  with  heavy  hammers  in 
rheir  hands.  One  swing  of  the  axe,  the  door  was 
crashed  open  and  the  crowd  went  in  like  wolves. 
Shattered  windows,  sashes  and  all,  flew  out  into  the 
street,  followed  by  showers  of  type,  chair-legs,  ta 
ble-tops,  and  then,  piece  by  piece,  the  battered  cogs, 
wheels,  and  forms  of  a  printing-press.  The  crowd 
made  little  noise.  In  fifteen  minutes  the  house  was 
a  shell  with  gaping  windows,  surrounded  with  a 
pile  of  chaotic  rubbish,  and  the  men  who  had  done 
the  work  quietly  disappeared.  Chad  looked  at  the 
school-master  for  the  first  time — neither  of  them 
had  uttered  a  word.  The  school-master's  face  was 
white  with  anger,  his  hands  were  clinched,  and  his 
eyes  were  so  fierce  and  burning  that  the  boy  was 
frightened. 

189 


XV 

TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS 

AS  the  school-master  had  foretold,  there  was  no 
room  at  college  for  Jack.  Several  times 
Major  Buford  took  the  dog  home  with  him,  but 
Jack  would  not  stay.  The  next  morning  the  dog 
would  turn  up  at  the  door  of  the  dormitory  where 
Chad  and  the  school-master  slept,  and  as  a  last 
resort  the  boy  had  to  send  Jack  home.  So,  one  Sun 
day  morning  Chad  led  Jack  out  of  the  town  for 
several  miles,  and  at  the  top  of  a  high  hill  po  nted 
toward  the  mountains  and  sternly  told  him  to  go 
home.  And  Jack,  understanding  that  the  boy  was 
in  earnest,  trotted  sadly  away  with  a  placard  around 
his  neck: 


I  own  this  dog.  His  name  is  Jack.  He 
is  on  his  way  to  Kingdom  Come.  Please 
feed  him.  Uncle  Joel  Turner  will  shoot  any 
man  who  steels  him.  CHAD. 


It  was  no  little  consolation  to  Chad  to  think  that 
the  faithful  sheep-dog  would  in  no  small  measure 
repay  the  Turners  for  all  they  had  done  for  him. 
But  Jack  was  the  closest  link  that  bound  him  to  the 

190 


TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS 

mountains,  and  dropping  out  of  sight  behind  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  Chad  crept  to  the  top  again  and 
watched  Jack  until  he  trotted  out  of  sight,  and  the 
link  was  broken.  Then  Chad  went  slowly  and  sor 
rowfully  back  to  his  room. 

It  was  the  smallest  room  in  the  dormitory  that 
the  school-master  had  chosen  for  himself  and  Chad, 
and  in  it  were  one  closet,  one  table,  one  lamp,  two 
chairs  and  one  bed — no  more.  There  were  two 
windows  in  the  little  room — one  almost  swept  by 
the  branches  of  a  locust-tree  and  overlooking  the 
brown-gray  sloping  campus  and  the  roofs  and 
church-steeples  of  the  town — the  other  opening  to 
the  east  on  a  sweep  of  field  and  woodland  over 
which  the  sun  rose  with  a  daily  message  from  the 
unseen  mountains  far  beyond  and  toward  which 
Chad  had  sent  Jack  trotting  home.  It  was  a  proud 
day  for  Chad  when  Caleb  Hazel  took  him  to 
"matriculate" — leading  him  from  one  to  another 
of  the  professors,  who  awed  the  lad  with  their 
preternatural  dignity,  but  it  was  a  sad  blow  when 
he  was  told  that  in  everything  but  mathematics  he 
must  go  to  the  preparatory  department  until  the 
second  session  of  the  term — the  "  kitchen,"  as  it  was 
called  by  the  students.  He  bore  it  bravely,  though, 
and  the  school-master  took  him  down  the  shady 
streets  to  the  busy  thoroughfare,  where  the  official 
book-store  was,  and  where  Chad,  with  pure  ecstasy, 
caught  his  first  new  books  under  one  arm  and 

191 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

trudged  back,  bending  his  head  now  and  then  to 
catch  the  delicious  smell  of  the  fresh  leaves  and 
print.  It  was  while  he  was  standing  with  his  treas 
ures  under  the  big  elm  at  the  turnstile,  looking 
across  the  campus  at  the  sundowi.  that  two  boys 
came  down  the  gravel  path.  He  knew  them  both 
at  once  as  Dan  and  Harry  Dean.  Both  looked 
at  him  curiously,  as  he  thought,  but  he  saw  that 
neither  knew  him  and  no  one  spoke.  The  sound 
of  wheels  came  up  the  street  behind  him  just  then, 
and  a  carriage  halted  at  the  turnstile  to  take  them 
in.  Turning,  Chad  saw  a  slender  girl  with  dark 
hair  and  eyes  and  heard  her  call  brightly  to  the 
boys.  He  almost  caught  his  breath  at  the  sound 
of  her  voice,  but  he  kept  sturdily  on  his  way,  and 
the  girl's  laugh  rang  in  his  ears  as  it  rang  the  first 
time  he  heard  it,  was  ringing  when  he  reached  his 
room,  ringing  when  he  went  to  bed  that  night,  and 
lay  sleepless,  looking  through  his  window  at  the 
quiet  stars. 

For  some  time,  indeed,  no  one  recognized  him, 
and  Chad  was  glad.  Once  he  met  Richard  Hunt 
riding  with  Margaret,  and  the  piercing  dark  eyes 
that  the  boy  remembered  so  well  turned  again  to 
look  at  him.  Chad  colored  and  bravely  met  them 
with  his  own,  but  there  was  no  recognition.  And 
fhe  saw  John  Morgan — Captain  John  Morgan— 
at  the  head  of  the  "Lexington  Rifles,"  which  he 
iiad  just  formed  from  the  best  blood  of  the  town, 

192 


TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS 

as  though  in  long  preparation  for  that  coming  war 
—saw  him  and  Richard  Hunt,  as  lieutenant,  drill 
ing  them  in  the  campus,  and  the  sight  thrilled  him 
as  nothing  else,  except  Margaret,  had  ever  done. 
Many  times  he  met  the  Dean  brothers  on  the  play 
ground  and  in  the  streets,  but  there  was  no  sign 
that  he  was  known  until  he  was  called  to  the  black 
board  one  day  in  geometry,  the  only  course  in  which 
he  had  not  been  sent  to  the  "  kitchen."  Then  Chad 
saw  Harry  turn  quickly  when  the  professor  called 
his  name.  Confused  though  he  was  for  a  moment, 
he  gave  his  demonstration  in  his  quaint  speech  with 
perfect  clearness  and  without  interruption  from  the 
professor,  who  gave  the  boy  a  keen  look  as  he  said, 
quietly: 

"Very  good,  sir!"  And  Harry  could  see  his 
fingers  tracing  in  his  class-book  the  figures  that 
meant  a  perfect  recitation. 

"How  are  you,  Chad  ?"  he  said  in  the  hallway 
afterward. 

"Howdye!"  said  Chad,  shaking  the  proffered 
hand. 

"I  didn't  know  you — you've  grown  so  tall. 
Didn't  you  know  me  ?" 

"Yes." 

'  Then  why  didn't  you  speak  to  me  ?" 
"Cause  you  didn't  know  me." 

Harry  laughed.  "Well,  that  isn't  fair.  See  you 
again." 

193 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

"All  right,"  said  Chad. 

That  very  afternoon  Chad  met  Dan  in  a  foot 
ball  game — an  old-fashioned  game,  in  which  there 
were  twenty  or  thirty  howling  lads  on  each  side  and 
nobody  touched  the  ball  except  with  his  foot — met 
him  so  violently  that,  clasped  in  each  other's  arms, 
they  tumbled  to  the  ground. 

"Leggo!"  said  Dan. 

"S'pose  you  leggo!"  said  Chad. 

As  Dan  started  after  the  ball  he  turned  to  look 
at  Chad  and  after  the  game  he  went  up  to  him. 

"Why,  aren't  you  the  boy  who  was  out  at  Ma 
jor  Buford's  once  ?" 

"Yes."  Dan  thrust  out  his  hand  and  began  to 
laugh.  So  did  Chad,  and  each  knew  that  the  other 
was  thinking  of  the  tournament. 

"In  college?" 

"  Math'matics,"  said  Chad.  "  I'm  in  the  kitchen 
fer  the  rest." 

"Oh!"  said  Dan.  " Where  you  living  ?"  Chad 
pointed  to  the  dormitory,  and  again  Dan  said 
"Oh!"  in  a  way  that  made  Chad  flush,  but  added, 
quickly: 

"You  better  play  on  our  side  to-morrow." 

Chad  looked  at  his  clothes — foot-ball  seemed 
pretty  hard  on  clothes— "I  don't  know,"  he  said — - 
"mebbe." 

It  was  plain  that  neither  of  the  boys  was  hold 
ing  anything  against  Chad,  but  neither  had  asked 

194 


TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS 

the  mountain  lad  to  come  to  see  him — an  omission 
that  was  almost  unforgivable  according  to  Chad's 
social  ethics.  So  Chad  proudly  went  into  his  shell 
again,  and  while  the  three  boys  met  often,  no  in 
timacy  developed.  Often  he  saw  them  with  Mar 
garet,  on  the  street,  in  a  carriage  or  walking  with 
a  laughing  crowd  of  boys  and  girls;  on  the  por 
ticos  of  old  houses  or  in  the  yards;  and,  one  night, 
Chad  saw,  through  the  wide-open  door  of  a  cer 
tain  old  house  on  the  corner  of  Mill  and  Market 
Streets,  a  party  going  on;  and  Margaret,  all  in 
white,  dancing,  and  he  stood  in  the  shade  of  the 
trees  opposite  with  new  pangs  shooting  through 
him  and  went  back  to  his  room  in  desolate  loneli 
ness,  but  with  a  new  grip  on  his  resolution  that  his 
own  day  should  yet  come. 

Steadily  the  boy  worked,  forging  his  way  slowly 
but  surely  toward  the  head  of  his  class  in  the 
"kitchen,"  and  the  school-master  helped  him  un- 
wearyingly.  And  it  was  a  great  help — mental  and 
spiritual — to  be  near  the  stern  Puritan,  who  loved 
the  boy  as  a  brother  and  was  ever  ready  to  guide 
him  with  counsel  and  aid  him  with  his  studies.  In 
time  the  Major  went  to  the  president  to  ask  him 
about  Chad,  and  that  august  dignitary  spoke  of 
the  lad  in  a  way  that  made  the  Major,  on  his  way 
through  the  campus,  swish  through  the  grass  with 
his  cane  in  great  satisfaction.  He  always  spoke  of 
the  boy  now  as  his  adopted  son  and,  whenever  it 

'95 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

was  possible,  he  came  in  to  take  Chad  out  home 
to  spend  Sunday  with  him;  but,  being  a  wise  man 
and  loving  Chad's  independence,  he  let  the  boy 
have  his  own  way.  He  had  bought  the  filly — and 
would  hold  her,  he  said,  until  Chad  could  buy  her 
back,  and  he  would  keep  the  old  nag  as  a  brood 
mare  and  would  divide  profits  with  Chad — to  all 
of  which  the  boy  agreed.  The  question  of  the  lad's 
birth  was  ignored  between  them,  and  the  Major 
rarely  spoke  to  Chad  of  the  Deans,  who  were  liv 
ing  in  town  during  the  winter,  nor  questioned  him 
about  Dan  or  Harry  or  Margaret.  But  Chad  had 
found  out  where  the  little  girl  went  to  church,  and 
every  Sunday,  despite  Caleb  Hazel's  protest,  he 
would  slip  into  the  Episcopal  church,  with  a  queer 
feeling — little  Calvinist  of  the  hills  that  he  was — 
that  it  was  not  quite  right  for  him  even  to  enter 
that  church;  and  he  would  watch  the  little  girl 
come  in  with  her  family  and,  after  the  queer  way 
of  these  "furriners,"  kneel  first  in  prayer.  And 
there,  with  soul  uplifted  by  the  dim  rich  light  and 
the  peal  of  the  organ,  he  would  sit  watching  her; 
rising  when  she  rose,  watching  the  light  from  the 
windows  on  her  shining  hair  and  sweet-spirited 
face,  watching  her  reverent  little  head  bend  in 
obeisance  to  the  name  of  the  Master,  though  he 
kept  his  own  held  straight,  for  no  Popery  like  that 
was  for  him.  Always,  however,  he  would  slip  out 
before  the  service  was  quite  over  and  never  wait 

196 


TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS 

even  to  see  her  come  out  of  church.  He  was  too 
proud  for  that  and,  anyhow,  it  made  him  lonely  to 
see  the  people  greeting  one  another  and  chatting 
and  going  off  home  together  when  there  was  not  a 
soul  to  speak  to  him.  It  was  just  one  such  Sunday 
that  they  came  face  to  face  for  the  first  time. 
Chad  had  gone  down  the  street  after  leaving  the 
church,  had  changed  his  mind  and  was  going  back 
to  his  room.  People  were  pouring  from  the  church, 
as  he  went  by,  but  Chad  did  not  even  look  across. 
A  clatter  rose  behind  him  and  he  turned  to  see  a 
horse  and  rockaway  coming  at  a  gallop  up  the 
street,  which  was  narrow.  The  negro  driver, 
frightened  though  he  was,  had  sense  enough  to  pull 
his  running  horse  away  from  the  line  of  vehicles 
in  front  of  the  church  so  that  the  beast  stumbled 
against  the  curb-stone,  crashed  into  a  tree,  and 
dropped  struggling  in  the  gutter  below  another 
line  of  vehicles  waiting  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street.  Like  lightning,  Chad  leaped  and  landed 
full  length  on  the  horse's  head  and  was  tossed  vio 
lently  to  and  fro,  but  he  held  on  until  the  animal 
lay  still. 

"Unhitch  the  hoss,"  he  called,  sharply. 

"Well,  that  was  pretty  quick  work  for  a  boy," 
said  a  voice  across  the  street  that  sounded  familiar, 
and  Chad  looked  across  to  see  General  Dean  and 
Margaret  watching  him.  The  boy  blushed  furi 
ously  when  his  eyes  met  Margaret's  and  he  thought 

197 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

he  saw  her  start  slightly,  but  he  lowered  his  eyes 
and  hurried  away. 

It  was  only  a  few  days  later  that,  going  up  from 
town  toward  the  campus,  he  turned  a  corner  and 
there  was  Margaret  alone  and  moving  slowly 
ahead  of  him.  Hearing  his  steps  she  turned  her 
head  to  see  who  it  was,  but  Chad  kept  his  eyes  on 
the  ground  and  passed  her  without  looking  up. 
And  thus  he  went  on,  although  she  was  close  be 
hind  him,  across  the  street  and  to  the  turnstile. 
As  he  was  passing  through,  a  voice  rose  behind 
him: 

"You  aren't  very  polite,  little  boy."  He  turned 
quickly — Margaret  had  not  gone  around  the  cor 
ner:  she,  too,  was  coming  through  the  campus  and 
there  she  stood,  grave  and  demure,  though  her  eyes 
were  dancing. 

"My  mamma  says  a  nice  little  boy  always  lets  a 
little  girl  go  first" 

"I  didn't  know  you  was  comin'  through." 

"Was  comin'  through!"  Margaret  made  a  lit 
tle  face  as  though  to  say — "Oh,  dear." 

"I  said  I  didn't  know  you  were  coming  through 
this  way." 

Margaret  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  said; 
"no,  you  didn't." 

"Well,  that's  what  I  meant  to  say."  Chad  was 
having  a  hard  time  with  his  English.  He  had 
snatched  his  cap  from  his  head,  had  stepped  back 

198 


TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS 

outside  the  stile  and  was  waiting  to  turn  it  for  her, 
Margaret  passed  through  and  waited  where  the 
paths  forked. 

"Are  you  going  up  to  the  college?"  she  asked. 

"I  was — but  I  ain't  now — if  you'll  let  me  walk 
a  piece  with  you."  He  was  scarlet  with  confusion 
— a  tribute  that  Chad  rarely  paid  his  kind.  His 
way  of  talking  was  very  funny,  to  be  sure,  but  had 
she  not  heard  her  father  say  that  "the  poor  little 
chap  had  had  no  chance  in  life;"  and  Harry,  that 
some  day  he  would  be  the  best  in  his  class  ? 

"Aren't  you— Chad?" 

"Yes — ain't  you  Margaret — Miss  Margaret?" 

"Yes,  I'm  Margaret."  She  was  pleased  with 
the  hesitant  title  and  the  boy's  halting  rever 
ence. 

"An'  I  called  you  a  little  gal."  Margaret's 
laugh  tinkled  in  merry  remembrance.  "An'  you 
wouldn't  take  my  fish." 

"I  can't  bear  to  touch  them." 

"I  know,"  said  Chad,  remembering  Melissa. 

They  passed  a  boy  who  knew  Chad,  but  not 
Margaret.  The  lad  took  off  his  hat,  but  Chad  did 
not  lift  his;  then  a  boy  and  a  girl  and,  when  only 
the  two  girls  spoke,  the  other  boy  lifted  his  hat, 
though  he  did  not  speak  to  Margaret.  Still  Chad's 
hat  was  untouched  and  when  Margaret  looked  up, 
Chad's  face  was  red  with  confusion  again.  But  it 
never  took  the  boy  long  to  learn  and,  thereafter, 

199 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

during  the  walk  his  hat  came  off  unfailingly. 
Everyone  looked  at  the  two  with  some  surprise 
and  Chad  noticed  that  the  little  girl's  chin  was  be 
ing  lifted  higher  and  higher.  His  intuition  told 
him  what  the  matter  was,  and  when  they  reached 
the  stile  across  the  campus  and  Chad  saw  a  crowd 
of  Margaret's  friends  coming  down  the  street,  he 
halted  as  if  to  turn  back,  but  the  little  girl  told  him 
imperiously  to  come  on.  It  was  a  strange  escort 
for  haughty  Margaret — the  country-looking  boy, 
in  coarse  homespun — but  Margaret  spoke  cheerily 
to  her  friends  and  went  on,  looking  up  at  Chad  and 
talking  to  him  as  though  he  were  the  dearest  friend 
she  had  on  earth. 

At  the  edge  of  town  she  suggested  that  they 
walk  across  a  pasture  and  go  back  by  another  street, 
and  not  until  they  were  passing  through  the  wood 
land  did  Chad  come  to  himself. 

"You  know  I  didn't  rickollect  when  you  called 
me  'little  boy/" 

"Indeed!" 

"Not  at  fust,  I  mean,"  stammered  Chad. 

Margaret  grew  mock-haughty  and  Chad  grew 
grave.     He  spoke  very  slowly  and   steadily.     "I 
reckon  I  rickollect  ever' thing  that  happened  out 
thar  a  sight  better'n  you.     I  ain't  forgot  nothin'- 
anything." 

The  boy's  sober  and  half-sullen  tone  made  Mar 
garet  catch  her  breath  with  a  sudden  vague  alarm. 

200 


TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS 

Unconsciously  she  quickened  her  pace,  but,  already, 
she  was  mistress  of  an  art  to  which  she  was  born 
and  she  said,  lightly: 

"Now,  that's  much  better."  A  piece  of  paste 
board  dropped  from  Chad's  jacket  just  then,  and, 
taking  the  little  girl's  cue  to  swerve  from  the  point 
at  issue,  he  picked  it  up  and  held  it  out  for  Mar 
garet  to  read.  It  was  the  first  copy  of  the  placard 
which  he  had  tied  around  Jack's  neck  when  he  sent 
him  home,  and  it  set  Margaret  to  laughing  and 
asking  questions.  Before  he  knew  it  Chad  was  tell 
ing  her  about  Jack  and  the  mountains;  how  he  had 
run  away;  about  the  Turners  and  about  Melissa 
and  coming  down  the  river  on  a  raft — all  he  had 
done  and  all  he  meant  to  do.  And  from  looking  at 
Chad  now  and  then,  Margaret  finally  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  on  his — and  thus  they  stood  when  they 
reached  the  gate,  while  crows  flew  cawing  over 
them  and  the  air  grew  chill. 

"  And  did  Jack  go  home  ? " 

Chad  laughed. 

"No,  he  didn't.  He  come  back,  and  I  had  to 
hide  fer  two  days.  Then,  because  he  couldn't  find 
me  he  did  go,  thinking  I  had  gone  back  to  the 
mountains,  too.  He  went  to  look  fer  me." 

"Well,  if  he  comes  back  again  I'll  ask  my  papa 
to  get  them  to  let  you  keep  Jack  at  college,"  said 
Margaret. 

Chad  shook  his  head. 

201 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM   COME 

"Then  I'll  keep  him  for  you  myself."  The  boy 
looked  his  gratitude,  but  shook  his  head  again. 

"He  won't  stay." 

Margaret  asked  for  the  placard  again  as  they 
moved  down  the  street. 

"You've  got  it  spelled  wrong,"  she  said,  pointing 
to  "steel."  Chad  blushed.  "I  can't  spell  when  T 
write,"  he  said.  "I  can't  even  talk — right." 

"But  you'll  learn,"  she  said. 

"Will  you  help  me?" 

"Yes." 

"Tell  me  when  I  say  things  wrong  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Where'm  I  goin'  to  see  you  ?" 

Margaret  shook  her  head  thoughtfully:  then  the 
reason  for  her  speaking  first  to  Chad  came  out. 

"Papa  and  I  saw  you  on  Sunday,  and  papa  said 
you  must  be  very  strong  as  well  as  brave,  and  that 
you  knew  something  about  horses.  Harry  told  us 
who  you  were  when  papa  described  you,  and  then  I 
remembered.  Papa  told  Harry  to  bring  you  to  see 
us.  And  you  must  come,"  she  said,  decisively. 

They  had  reached  the  turnstile  at  the  campus 
again. 

"Have  you  had  any  more  tournaments  ?"  asked 
Margaret. 

"No,"  said  Chad,  apprehensively. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  last  thing  I  said  to  you  ? " 

"I  rickollect  that  better'n  anything,"  said  Chad. 
202 


TO  COLLEGE  IN  THE  BLUEGRASS 

"Well,  I  didn't  hate  you.  I'm  sorry  I  said  that," 
she  said,  gently.  Chad  looked  very  serious. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said.  "I  seed — I  .r<m>you 
on  Sunday,  too." 

"Did  you  know  me  ?" 

"  I  reckon  I  did.  And  that  wasn't  the  fust  time/' 
Margaret's  eyes  were  opening  with  surprise. 

"I  been  goin'  to  church  ever'  Sunday  fer  nothin' 
else  but  just  to  see  you."  Again  his  tone  gave  her 
vague  alarm,  but  she  asked: 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  to  me  ?" 

They  were  nearing  the  turnstile  across  the  cam 
pus  now,  and  Chad  did  not  answer. 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  to  me  ?" 

Chad  stopped  suddenly,  and  Margaret  looked 
quickly  at  him,  and  saw  that  his  face  was  scarlet. 
The  little  girl  started  and  her  own  face  flamed. 
There  was  one  thing  she  had  forgotten,  and  even 
now  she  could  not  recall  what  it  was — only  that  it 
was  something  terrible  she  must  not  know — old 
Mammy's  words  when  Dan  was  carried  in  senseless 
after  the  tournament.  Frightened  and  helpless,  she 
shrank  toward  the  turnstile,  but  Chad  did  not  wait. 
With  his  cap  in  his  hand,  he  turned  abruptly,  with 
out  a  sound,  and  strode  away. 


203 


XVI 

AGAIN  THE    BAR   SINISTER 

A  ND  yet,  the  next  time  Chad  saw  Margaret, 
•*•  *•  she  spoke  to  him  shyly  but  cordially,  'and 
when  he  did  not  come  near  her,  she  stopped  him 
on  the  street  one  day  and  reminded  him  of  his 
promise  to  come  and  see  them.  And  Chad  knew 
the  truth  at  once — that  she  had  never  asked  her 
father  about  him,  but  had  not  wanted  to  know 
what  she  had  been  told  she  must  not  know,  and 
had  properly  taken  it  for  granted  that  her  father 
would  not  ask  Chad  to  his  house,  if  there  were  a 
good  reason  why  he  should  not  come.  But  Chad 
did  not  go  even  to  the  Christmas  party  that  Mar 
garet  gave  in  town,  though  the  Major  urged  him. 
He  spent  Christmas  with  the  Major,  and  he  did  go 
to  a  country  party,  where  the  Major  was  delighted 
with  the  boy's  grace  and  agility,  dancing  the  quad 
rille,  and  where  the  lad  occasioned  no  little  amuse 
ment  with  his  improvisations  in  the  way  of  cutting 
pigeon's  wings  and  shuffling,  which  he  had  learned 
in  the  mountains.  So  the  Major  made  him  accept 
a  loan  and  buy  a  suit  for  social  purposes  after 
Christmas,  and  had  him  go  to  Madam  Blake's 

204. 


AGAIN  THE  BAR  SINISTER 

dancing  school,  and  promise  to  go  to  the  next  party 
to  which  he  was  asked.  And  that  Chad  did — to 
the  big  gray  house  on  the  corner,  through  whose 
widespread  doors  his  longing  eyes  had  watched 
Margaret  and  her  friends  flitting  like  butterflies 
months  before. 

It  intoxicated  the  boy — the  lights,  music,  flow 
ers,  the  little  girls  in  white — and  Margaret.  For 
the  first  time  he  met  her  friends,  Nellie  Hunt,  sis 
ter  to  Richard;  Elizabeth  Morgan,  cousin  to  John 
Morgan;  and  Miss  Jennie  Overstreet,  who,  young 
as  she  was,  wrote  poems — but  Chad  had  eyes  only 
for  Margaret.  It  was  while  he  was  dancing  a 
quadrille  with  her,  that  he  noticed  a  tall,  pale  youth 
with  black  hair,  glaring  at  him,  and  he  recognized 
Georgie  Forbes,  a  champion  of  Margaret,  and  the 
old  enemy  who  had  caused  his  first  trouble  in  his 
new  home.  Chad  laughed  with  fearless  gladness, 
and  Margaret  tossed  her  head.  It  was  Georgie 
now  who  blackened  and  spread  the  blot  on  Chad's 
good  name,  and  it  was  Georgie  to  whom  Chad— 
fast  learning  the  ways  of  gentlemen — promptly 
sent  a  pompous  challenge,  that  the  difficulty  might 
be  settled  "in  any  way  the  gentleman  saw  fit." 
Georgie  insultingly  declined  to  fight  with  one  who 
was  not  his  equal,  and  Chad  boxed  his  jaws  in  the 
presence  of  a  crowd,  floored  him  with  one  blow, 
and  contemptuously  twisted  his  nose.  Thereafter 
open  comment  ceased.  Chad  was  making  himself 

205 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

known.  He  was  the  swiftest  runner  on  the  foot 
ball  field;  he  had  the  quickest  brain  in  mathe 
matics;  he  was  elected  to  the  Periclean  Society,  and 
astonished  his  fellow-members  with  a  fiery  denun 
ciation  of  the  men  who  banished  Napoleon  to  St. 
Helena — so  fiery  was  it,  indeed,  that  his  opponents 
themselves  began  to  wonder  how  that  crime  had 
ever  come  to  pass.  He  would  fight  at  the  drop 
of  a  hat,  and  he  always  won;  and  by-and-by  the 
boy  began  to  take  a  fierce  joy  in  battling  his  way 
upward  against  a  block  that  would  have  crushed 
a  weaker  soul.  It  was  only  with  Margaret  that 
that  soul  was  in  awe.  He  began  to  love  her  with 
a  pure  reverence  that  he  could  never  know  at  an 
other  age.  Every  Saturday  night,  when  dusk 
fell,  he  was  mounting  the  steps  of  her  house. 
Every  Sunday  morning  he  was  waiting  to  take  her 
home  from  church.  Every  afternoon  he  looked  for 
her,  hoping  to  catch  sight  of  her  on  the  streets,  and 
it  was  only  when  Dan  and  Harry  got  indignant, 
and  after  Margaret  had  made  a  passionate  defence 
of  Chad  in  the  presence  of  the  family,  that  the  Gen 
eral  and  Mrs.  Dean  took  the  matter  in  hand.  It 
was  a  childish  thing,  of  course;  a  girlish  whim.  It 
was  right  that  they  should  be  kind  to  the  boy— 
for  Major  Buford's  sake,  if  not  for  his  own;  but 
they  could  not  have  even  the  pretence  of  more 
than  a  friendly  intimacy  between  the  two,  and  so 
Margaret  was  told  the  truth.  Immediately,  when 

206 


AGAIN  THE  BAR  SINISTER 

Chad  next  saw  her,  her  honest  eyes  sadly  told  him 
that  she  knew  the  truth,  and  Chad  gave  up  then. 
Thereafter  he  disappeared  from  sports  and  from 
his  kind  in  every  way,  except  in  the  classroom  and 
in  the  debating  hall.  Sullenly  he  stuck  to  his 
books.  From  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  ten 
o'clock  at  night,  he  was  at  them  steadily,  in  his 
room,  or  at  recitation — except  for  an  hour's  walk 
with  the  school-master  and  the  three  half-hours 
that  his  meals  kept  him  away.  He  grew  so  pale 
and  thin  that  the  Major  and  Caleb  Hazel  were 
greatly  worried,  but  protest  from  both  was  use 
less.  Before  the  end  of  the  term  he  had  mounted 
into  college  in  every  study,  and  was  holding  his 
own.  At  the  end  he  knew  his  power — knew  what 
he  could  do,  and  his  face  was  set,  for  his  future, 
dauntless.  When  vacation  came,  he  went  at  once 
to  the  Major's  farm,  but  not  to  be  idle.  In  a  week 
or  two  he  was  taking  some  of  the  reins  into  his 
own  hands  as  a  valuable  assistant  to  the  Major. 
He  knew  a  good  horse,  could  guess  the  weight  of 
a  steer  with  surprising  accuracy,  and  was  a  past 
master  in  knowledge  of  sheep.  By  instinct  he  was 
canny  at  a  trade — what  mountaineer  is  not  ? — and 
he  astonished  the  Major  with  the  shrewd  deals  he 
made.  Authority  seemed  to  come  naturally  to 
him,  and  the  Major  swore  that  he  could  get  more 
work  out  of  the  "hands"  than  the  overseer  himself, 
who  sullenly  resented  Chad's  interference,  but 

207 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

dared  not  open  his  lips.  Not  once  did  he  go  to 
the  Deans',  and  neither  Harry  nor  Dan  came  near 
him.  There  was  little  intercourse  between  the  Ma 
jor  and  the  General,  as  well;  for,  while  the  Major 
could  not,  under  the  circumstances,  blame  the  Gen 
eral,  inconsistently,  he  could  not  quite  forgive  him, 
and  the  line  of  polite  coolness  between  the  neigh 
bors  was  never  overstepped.  At  the  end  of  July, 
Chad  went  to  the  mountains  to  see  the  Turners  and 
Jack  and  Melissa.  He  wore  his  roughest  clothes, 
put  on  no  airs,  and,  to  all  eyes,  save  Melissa's,  he 
was  the  same  old  Chad.  But  feminine  subtlety 
knows  no  social  or  geographical  lines,  and  while 
Melissa  knew  what  had  happened  as  well  as  Chad, 
she  never  let  him  see  that  she  knew.  Apparently 
she  was  giving  open  encouragement  to  Dave  Hil 
ton,  a  tawny  youth  from  down  the  river,  who  was 
hanging,  dog-like,  about  the  house,  and  foolish 
Chad  began  to  let  himself  dream  of  Margaret  with 
a  light  heart.  On  the  third  day  before  he  was  to 
go  back  to  the  Bluegrass,  a  boy  came  from  over 
Black  Mountain  with  a  message  from  old  Nathan 
Cherry.  Old  Nathan  had  joined  the  church,  had 
fallen  ill,  and,  fearing  he  was  going  to  die,  wanted 
to  see  Chad.  Chad  went  over  with  curious  premo 
nitions  that  were  not  in  vain,  and  he  came  back 
with  a  strange  story  that  he  told  only  to  old  Joel, 
under  promise  that  he  should  never  make  it  known 
to  Melissa.  Then  he  started  for  the  Bluegrass, 

208 


AGAIN  THE  BAR  SINISTER 

going  over  Pine  Mountain  and  down  through  Cum 
berland  Gap.  He  would  come  back  every  year  of 
his  life,  he  told  Melissa  and  the  Turners,  but  Chad 
knew  he  was  bidding  a  last  farewell  to  the  life  he 
had  known  in  the  mountains.  At  Melissa's  wish 
and  old  Joel's,  he  left  Jack  behind,  though  he 
sorely  wanted  to  take  the  dog  with  him.  It  was 
little  enough  for  him  to  do  in  return  for  their  kind 
ness,  and  he  could  see  that  Melissa's  affection  for 
Jack  was  even  greater  than  his  own:  and  how  in 
comparably  lonelier  than  his  life  was  the  life  that 
she  must  lead!  This  time  Melissa  did  not  rush  to 
the  yard  gate  when  he  was  gone.  She  sank  slowly 
where  she  stood  to  the  steps  of  the  porch,  and  there 
she  sat  stone-still.  Old  Joel  passed  her  on  the  way 
to  the  barn.  Several  times  the  old  mother  walked 
to  the  door  behind  her,  and  each  time  starting;  to 

o 

speak,  stopped  and  turned  back,  but  the  girl  neither 
saw  nor  heard  them.  Jack  trotted  by,  whimper 
ing.  He  sat  down  in  front  of  her,  looking  up  at 
her  unseeing  eyes,  and  it  was  only  when  he  crept 
to  her  and  put  his  head  in  her  lap,  that  she  put  her 
arms  around  him  and  bent  her  own  head  down;  but 
no  tears  came. 


209 


XVII 

CHADWICK    BUFORD,    GENTLEMAN 

AND  so,  returned  to  the  Bluegrass,  the  mid- 
•*•  ^-  summer  of  that  year,  Chadwick  Buford, 
gentleman.  A  youth  of  eighteen,  with  the  self- 
poise  of  a  man,  and  a  pair  of  level,  clear  eyes,  that 
looked  the  world  in  the  face  as  proudly  as  ever, 
but  with  no  defiance  and  no  secret  sense  of  shame. 
It  was  a  curious  story  that  Chad  brought  back  and 
told  to  the  Major,  on  the  porch  under  the  honey 
suckle  vines,  but  it  seemed  to  surprise  the  Major 
very  little:  how  old  Nathan  had  sent  for  him  to 
come  to  his  death-bed  and  had  told  Chad  that  he 
was  no  foundling;  that  one  of  his  farms  belonged 
to  the  boy;  that  he  had  lied  to  the  Major  about 
Chad's  mother,  who  was  a  lawful  wife,  in  order  to 
keep  the  land  for  himself;  how  old  Nathan  had 
offered  to  give  back  the  farm,  or  pay  him  the  price 
of  it  in  live  stock,  and  how,  at  old  Joel's  advice, 
he  had  taken  the  stock  and  turned  the  stock  into 
money.  How,  after  he  had  found  his  mother's 
grave,  his  first  act  had  been  to  take  up  the  rough 
bee-gum  coffin  that  held  her  remains,  and  carry  it 
down  the  river,  and  bury  her  where  she  had  the 

210 


CHADWICK  BUFORD,  GENTLEMAN 

right  to  lie,  side  by  side  with  her  grandfather  and 
his  —  the  old  gentleman  who  slept  in  wig  and 
peruke  on  the  hill-side — that  her  good  name  and 
memory  should  never  again  suffer  insult  from  any 
living  tongue.  It  was  then  that  Major  took  Chad 
by  the  shoulders  roughly,  and,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  swore  that  he  would  have  no  more  nonsense 
from  the  boy;  that  Chad  was  flesh  of  his  flesh  and 
bone  of  his  bone;  that  he  would  adopt  him  and 
make  him  live  where  he  belonged,  and  break  his 
damned  pride.  And  it  was  then  that  Chad  told 
him  how  gladly  he  would  come,  now  that  he  could 
bring  him  an  untarnished  name.  And  the  two 
walked  together  down  to  the  old  family  graveyard, 
where  the  Major  said  that  the  two  in  the  moun 
tains  should  be  brought  some  day  and  where  the 
two  brothers  who  had  parted  nearly  fourscore  years 
ago  could,  side  by  side,  await  Judgment  Day. 

When  they  went  back  into  the  house  the  Major 
went  to  the  sideboard. 

"Have  a  drink,  Chad?" 

Chad  laughed:  "Do  you  think  it  will  stunt  my 
growth  ? " 

"Stand  up  here,  and  let's  see,"  said  the  Major. 

The  two  stood  up,  back  to  back,  in  front  of  a 
long  mirror,  and  Chad's  shaggy  hair  rose  at  least 
an  inch  above  the  Major's  thin  locks  of  gray.  The 
Major  turned  and  looked  at  him  from  head  to  foot 
with  affectionate  pride. 

211 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

"Six  feet  in  your  socks,  to  the  inch,  without  that 
hair.  I  reckon  it  won't  stunt  you — not  now." 

"All  right,"  laughed  Chad,  "then  I'll  take  that 
drink."  And  together  they  drank. 

Thus,  Chadwick  Buford,  gentleman,  after  the 
lapse  of  three-quarters  of  a  century,  came  back  to 
his  own :  and  what  that  own,  at  that  day  and  in  that 
land,  was! 

It  was  the  rose  of  Virginia,  springing,  in  full 
bloom,  from  new  and  richer  soil — a  rose  of  a 
deeper  scarlet  and  a  stronger  stem:  and  the  big  vil 
lage  where  the  old  University  reared  its  noble  front 
was  the  very  heart  of  that  rose.  There  were  the 
proudest  families,  the  stateliest  homes,  the  broadest 
culture,  the  most  gracious  hospitality,  the  gentlest 
courtesies,  the  finest  chivalry,  that  the  State  has 
ever  known.  There  lived  the  political  idols;  there, 
under  the  low  sky,  rose  the  memorial  shaft  to  Clay. 
There  had  lived  beaux  and  belles,  memories  of 
whom  hang  still  about  the  town,  people  it  with 
phantom  shapes,  and  give  an  individual  or  a  family 
here  and  there  a  subtle  distinction  to-day.  There 
the  grasp  of  Calvinism  was  most  lax.  There  were 
the  dance,  the  ready  sideboard,  the  card  table,  the 
love  of  the  horse  and  the  dog,  and  but  little  pas 
sion  for  the  game-cock.  There  were  as  manly  vir 
tues,  as  manly  vices,  as  the  world  has  ever  known. 
And  there,  love  was  as  far  from  lust  as  heaven  from 
hell. 

212 


CHADWICK  BUFORD,  GENTLEMAN 

It  was  on  the  threshold  of  this  life  that  Chad 
stood.  Kentucky  had  given  birth  to  the  man  who 
was  to  uphold  the  Union — birth  to  the  man  who 
would  seek  to  shatter  it.  Fate  had  given  Chad  the 
early  life  of  one,  and  like  blood  with  the  other; 
and,  curiously  enough,  in  his  own  short  life,  he  al 
ready  epitomized  the  social  development  of  the 
nation,  from  its  birth  in  a  log  cabin  to  its  swift  ma 
turity  behind  the  columns  of  a  Greek  portico. 
Against  the  uncounted  generations  of  gentlepeople 
that  ran  behind  him  to  sunny  England,  how  little 
could  the  short  sleep  of  three  in  the  hills  count!  It 
may  take  three  generations  to  make  a  gentleman, 
but  one  is  enough,  if  the  blood  be  there,  the  heart 
be  right,  and  the  brain  and  hand  come  early  under 
discipline. 

It  was  to  General  Dean  that  the  Major  told 
Chad's  story  first.  The  two  old  friends  silently 
grasped  hands,  and  the  cloud  between  them  passed 
like  mist. 

"Bring  him  over  to  dinner  on  Saturday,  Cal — 
you  and  Miss  Lucy,  won't  you  ?  Some  people  are 
coming  out  from  town."  In  making  amends,  there 
was  no  half-way  with  General  Dean. 

"I  will,"  said  the  Major,  "gladly." 

The  cool  of  the  coming  autumn  was  already  in 
the  air  that  Saturday  when  Miss  Lucy  and  the  Ma 
jor  and  Chad,  in  the  old  carriage,  with  old  Tom 
as  driver  and  the  pickaninny  behind,  started  for 

213 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

General  Dean's.  The  Major  was  beautiful  to  be 
hold,  in  his  flowered  waistcoat,  his  ruffled  shirt, 
white  trousers  strapped  beneath  his  highly  pol 
ished,  high-heeled  boots,  high  hat  and  frock  coat, 
with  only  the  lowest  button  fastened,  in  order  to 
give  a  glimpse  of  that  wonderful  waistcoat,  just 
as  that,  too,  was  unbuttoned  at  the  top  that  the 
ruffles  might  peep  out  upon  the  world.  Chad's  rai 
ment,  too,  was  a  Solomon's — for  him.  He  had 
protested,  but  in  vain;  and  he,  too,  wore  white 
trousers  with  straps,  high-heeled  boots,  and  a 
wine-colored  waistcoat  and  slouch  hat,  and  a  brave, 
though  very  conscious,  figure  he  made,  with  his 
tall  body,  well-poised  head,  strong  shoulders  and 
thick  hair.  It  was  a  rare  thing  for  Miss  Lucy  to 
do,  but  the  old  gentlewoman  could  not  resist  the 
Major,  and  she,  too,  rode  in  state  with  them,  smil 
ing  indulgently  at  the  Major's  quips,  and  now, 
kindly,  on  Chad.  A  drowsy  peace  lay  over  the 
magnificent  woodlands,  unravaged  then  except  for 
firewood;  the  seared  pastures,  just  beginning  to 
show  green  again  for  the  second  spring;  the  flash 
ing  creek,  the  seas  of  still  hemp  and  yellow  corn. 
And  Chad  saw  a  wistful  shadow  cross  Miss  Lucy's 
pale  face,  and  a  darker  one  anxiously  sweep  over 
the  Major's  jesting  lips. 

Guests  were  arriving,  when  they  entered  the 
yard  gate,  and  guests  were  coming  behind  them. 
General  and  Mrs.  Dean  were  receiving  them  on 

214 


CHADWICK  BUFORD,  GENTLEMAN 

the  porch,  and  Harry  and  Dan  were  helping 
the  ladies  out  of  their  carriages,  while,  leaning 
against  one  of  the  columns,  in  pure  white,  waa 
the  graceful  figure  of  Margaret.  That  there 
could  ever  have  been  any  feeling  in  any  mem 
ber  of  the  family  other  than  simple,  gracious 
kindliness  toward  him,  Chad  could  neither  see  nor 
feel.  At  once  every  trace  of  embarrassment  in  him 
was  gone,  and  he  could  but  wonder  at  the  swift 
justice  done  him  in  a  way  that  was  so  simple  and 
effective.  Even  with  Margaret  there  was  no  trace 
of  consciousness.  The  past  was  wiped  clean  of  all 
save  courtesy  and  kindness.  There  were  the  Hunts 
—Nellie,  and  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Lexington 
Rifles,  Richard  Hunt,  a  dauntless-looking  dare 
devil,  with  the  ready  tongue  of  a  coffee-house  wit 
and  the  grace  of  a  cavalier.  There  was  Elizabeth 
Morgan,  to  whom  Harry's  grave  eyes  were  always 
wandering,  and  Miss  Jennie  Overstreet,  who  was 
romantic  and  openly  now  wrote  poems  for  the  Ob- 
server,  and  who  looked  at  Chad  with  no  attempt  to 
conceal  her  admiration  of  his  appearance  and  her 
wonder  as  to  who  he  was.  And  there  were  the 
neighbors  roundabout — the  Talbotts,  Quisenber- 
rys,  Clays,  Prestons,  Morgans — surely  no  less  than 
forty  strong,  and  all  for  dinner.  It  was  no  little 
trial  for  Chad  in  that  crowd  of  fine  ladies,  judges, 
soldiers,  lawyers,  statesmen — but  he  stood  it  well. 
While  his  self-consciousness  made  him  awkward,  he 

215 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

had  pronounced  dignity  of  bearing;  his  diffidence 
emphasized  his  modesty,  and  he  had  the  good  sense 
to  stand  and  keep  still.  Soon  they  were  at  table 
— and  what  a  table  and  what  a  dinner  that  was! 
The  dining-room  was  the  biggest  and  sunniest  room 
in  the  house;  its  walls  covered  with  hunting  prints, 
pictures  of  game  and  stag  heads.  The  table  ran 
the  length  of  it.  The  snowy  tablecloth  hung  almost 
to  the  floor.  At  the  head  sat  Mrs.  Dean,  with  a 
great  tureen  of  calf's  head  soup  in  front  of  her. 
Before  the  General  was  the  saddle  of  venison  that 
was  to  follow,  drenched  in  a  bottle  of  ancient  Ma 
deira,  and  flanked  by  flakes  of  red-currant  jelly. 
Before  the  Major  rested  broiled  wild  ducks,  on 
which  he  could  show  his  carving  skill — on  game 
as  well  as  men.  A  great  turkey  supplanted  the 
venison,  and  last  to  come,  and  before  Richard 
Hunt,  Lieutenant  of  the  Rifles,  was  a  Kentucky 
ham.  That  ham!  Mellow,  aged,  boiled  in  cham 
pagne,  baked  brown,  spiced  deeply,  rosy  pink 
within,  and  of  a  flavor  and  fragrance  to  shatter  the 
fast  of  a  Pope;  and  without,  a  brown-edged  white 
layer,  so  firm  that  the  lieutenant's  deft  carving 
knife,  passing  through,  gave  no  hint  to  the  eye  that 
it  was  delicious  fat.  There  had  been  merry  jest 
and  laughter  and  banter  and  gallant  compliment  be 
fore,  but  it  was  Richard  Hunt's  turn  now,  and 
story  after  story  he  told,  as  the  rose-flakes  dropped 
un^er  his  knife  in  such  thin  slices  that  their  edges 

216 


CHADWICK  BUFORD,  GENTLEMAN 

coiled.  It  was  full  half  an  hour  before  the  carver 
and  story-teller  were  done.  After  that  ham  the 
tablecloth  was  lifted,  and  the  dessert  spread  on  an 
other  lying  beneath;  then  that,  too,  was  raised,  and 
the  nuts  and  wines  were  placed  on  a  third — red 
damask  this  time. 

Then  came  the  toasts:  to  the  gracious  hostess 
from  Major  Buford;  to  Miss  Lucy  from  General 
Dean;  from  valiant  Richard  Hunt  to  blushing 
Margaret,  and  then  the  ladies  were  gone,  and  the 
talk  was  politics — the  election  of  Lincoln,  slavery, 
disunion. 

"If  Lincoln  is  elected,  no  power  but  God's  can 
avert  war,"  said  Richard  Hunt,  gravely. 

Dan's  eyes  flashed.     "Will  you  take  me  ?" 

The  lieutenant  lifted  his  glass.  "Gladly,  my 
boy." 

"Kentucky's  convictions  are  with  the  Union; 
her  kinship  and  sympathies  with  the  South," 
said  a  deep-voiced  lawyer.  "She  must  remain 
neutral." 

"Straddling  the  fence,"  said  the  Major,  sarcas 
tically. 

"No;  to  avert  the  war,  if  possible,  or  to  act  the 
peacemaker  when  the  tragedy  is  over." 

"Well,  I  can  see  Kentuckians  keeping  out  of  a 
fight,"  laughed  the  General,  and  he  looked  around. 
Three  out  of  five  of  the  men  present  had  been  in 
the  Mexican  war.  The  General  had  been  wounded 

217 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

at  Cerro  Gordo,  and  the  Major  had  brought  his 
dead  home  in  leaden  coffins. 

'The  fanatics  of  Boston,  the  hot-heads  of  South 
Carolina — they  are  making  the  mischief." 

"And  New  England  began  with  slavery,"  said 
the  lawyer  again. 

"And  naturally,  with  that  conscience  that  is  a 
national  calamity,  was  the  first  to  give  it  up,"  said 
Richard  Hunt,  "when  the  market  price  of  slaves 
fell  to  sixpence  a  pound  in  the  open  Boston 
markets."  There  was  an  incredulous  murmur. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Hunt,  easily,  "I  can  show  you 
advertisements  in  Boston  papers  of  slaves  for  sale 
at  sixpence  a  pound." 

Perhaps  it  never  occurred  to  a  soul  present  that 
the  word  "slave"  was  never  heard  in  that  region  ex 
cept  in  some  such  way.  With  Southerners,  the  ne 
groes  were  "our  servants"  or  "our  people" — never 
slaves.  Two  lads  at  that  table  were  growing  white 
— Chad  and  Harry — and  Chad's  lips  opened 
first. 

"I  don't  think  slavery  has  much  to  do  with  the 
question,  really,"  he  said,  "not  even  with  Mr.  Lin 
coln."  The  silent  surprise  that  followed  the  boy's 
embarrassed  statement  ended  in  a  gasp  of  astonish 
ment  when  Harry  leaned  across  the  table  and  said, 
hotly: 

"Slavery  has  everything  to  do  with  the  ques 
tion." 

218 


CHADWICK  BUFORD,  GENTLEMAN 

The  Major  looked  bewildered;  the  General 
frowned,  and  the  keen-eyed  lawyer  spoke  again: 

"The  struggle  was  written  in  the  Constitution. 
The  framers  evaded  it.  Logic  leads  one  way  as 
well  as  another  and  no  man  can  logically  blame  an 
other  for  the  way  he  goes." 

"No  more  politics  now,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
General  quickly.  "We  will  join  the  ladies.  Har 
ry,"  he  added,  with  some  sternness,  "lead  the 
way!" 

As  the  three  boys  rose,  Chad  lifted  his  glass. 
His  face  was  pale  and  his  lips  trembled. 

"May  I  propose  a  toast,  General  Dean  ?" 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  the  General,  kindly. 

"I  want  to  drink  to  one  man  but  for  whom  I 
might  be  in  a  log-cabin  now,  and  might  have  died 
there  for  all  I  know — my  friend  and,  thank  God! 
my  kinsman — Major  Buford." 

It  was  irregular  and  hardly  in  good  taste,  but 
the  boy  had  waited  till  the  ladies  were  gone,  and 
it  touched  the  Major  that  he  should  want  to  make 
such  a  public  acknowledgment  that  there  should  be 
no  false  colors  in  the  flag  he  meant  henceforth  to 
bear. 

The  startled  guests  drank  blindly  to  the  con 
fused  Major,  though  they  knew  not  why,  but  as  the 
lads  disappeared  the  lawyer  asked: 

"Who  is  that  boy,  Major  ?" 

Outside,  the  same  question  had  been  asked 
219 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

among  the  ladies  and  the  same  story  told.  The 
three  girls  remembered  him  vaguely,  they  said,  and 
when  Chad  reappeared,  in  the  eyes  of  the  poetess 
at  least,  the  halo  of  romance  floated  above  his  head. 

She  was  waiting  for  Chad  when  he  came  out  on 
the  porch,  and  she  shook  her  curls  and  flashed  her 
eyes  in  a  way  that  almost  alarmed  him.  Old 
Mammy  dropped  him  a  curtsey,  for  she  had  had 
her  orders,  and,  behind  her,  Snowball,  now  a  tall, 
fine-looking  coal-black  youth,  grinned  a  welcome. 
The  three  girls  were  walking  under  the  trees,  with 
their  arms  mysteriously  twined  about  one  another's 
waists,  and  the  poetess  walked  down  toward  them 
with  the  three  lads,  Richard  Hunt  following. 
Chad  could  not  know  how  it  happened,  but,  a  mo 
ment  later,  Dan  was  walking  away  with  Nellie 
Hunt  one  way;  Harry  with  Elizabeth  Morgan  the 
other;  the  Lieutenant  had  Margaret  alone,  and 
Miss  Overstreet  was  leading  him  away,  raving 
meanwhile  about  the  beauty  of  field  and  sky.  As 
they  went  toward  the  gate  he  could  not  help  flash 
ing  one  look  toward  the  pair  under  the  fir  tree.  An 
amused  smile  was  playing  under  the  Lieutenant's 
beautiful  mustache,  his  eyes  were  dancing  with  mis 
chief,  and  Margaret  was  blushing  with  anything 
else  than  displeasure. 

"Oho!"  he  said,  as  Chad  and  his  companion 
passed  on.  "Sits  the  wind  in  that  corner?  Bless 
me,  if  looks  could  kill,  I'd  have  a  happy  death  here 

220 


CHADWICK  BUFORD,  GENTLEMAN 

at  your  feet,  Mistress  Margaret.     See  the  young 
man !    It's  the  second  time  he  has  almost  slain  me." 

Chad  could  scarcely  hear  Miss  Jennie's  happy 
chatter,  scarcely  saw  the  shaking  curls,  the  eyes  all 
but  in  a  frenzy  of  rolling.  His  eyes  were  in  the 
back  of  his  head,  and  his  backward-listening  ears 
heard  only  Margaret's  laugh  behind  him. 

"Oh,  I  do  love  the  autumn" — it  was  at  the  foot 
of  those  steps,  thought  Chad,  that  he  first  saw  Mar 
garet  springing  to  the  back  of  her  pony  and  dash 
ing  off  under  the  fir  trees — "and  it's  coming. 
There's  one  scarlet  leaf  already" — Chad  could  see 
the  rock  fence  where  he  had  sat  that  spring  day— 
"it's  curious  and  mournful  that  you  can  see  in  any 
season  a  sign  of  the  next  to  come."  And  there  was 
the  cre^k  where  he  found  Dan  fishing,  and  there 
the  road  led  to  the  ford  where  Margaret  had 
spurned  his  offer  of  a  slimy  fish — ugh!  "I  do  love 
the  autumn.  It  makes  me  feel  like  the  young 
woman  who  told  Emerson  that  she  had  such  mam 
moth  thoughts  she  couldn't  give  them  utterance — 
why,  wake  up,  Mr.  Buford,  wake  up!"  Chad  came 
to  with  a  start. 

"Do  you  know  you  aren't  very  polite,  Mr.  Bu 
ford  ?"  Mr.  Buford!  That  did  sound  funny. 

"But  I  know  what  the  matter  is,"  she  went  on. 
"I  saw  you  look" — she  nodded  her  head  backward. 
"Can  you  keep  a  secret  ?"  Chad  nodded;  he  had 
not  yet  opened  his  lips. 

221 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

'That's  going  to  be  a  match  back  there.  He's 
only  a  few  years  older.  The  French  say  that  a 
woman  should  be  half  a  man's  age  plus  seven  years. 
That  would  make  her  only  a  few  years  too  young, 
and  she  can  wait."  Chad  was  scarlet  under  the 
girl's  mischievous  torture,  but  a  cry  from  the  house 
saved  him.  Dan  was  calling  them  back. 

"Mr.  Hunt  has  to  go  back  early  to  drill  the 
Rifles.  Can  you  keep  another  secret?"  Again 
Chad  nodded  gravely.  "Well,  he  is  going  to  drive 
me  back.  I'll  tell  him  what  a  dangerous  rival  he 
has."  Chad  was  dumb;  there  was  much  yet  for 
him  to  learn  before  he  could  parry  with  a  tongue 
like  hers. 

"He's  very  good-looking,"  said  Miss  Jennie, 
when  she  joined  the  girls,  "but  oh,  so  stupid." 

Margaret  turned  quickly  and  unsuspiciously. 
"Stupid!  Why,  he's  the  first  man  in  his  class." 

"Oh,"  said  Miss  Jennie,  with  a  demure  smile, 
"perhaps  /  couldn't  draw  him  out,"  and  Margaret 
flushed  to  have  caught  the  deftly  tossed  bait  so 
readily. 

A  moment  later  the  Lieutenant  was  gathering  up 
the  reins,  with  Miss  Jennie  by  his  side.  He  gave  a 
bow  to  Margaret,  and  Miss  Jennie  nodded  to 
Chad. 

"Come  see  me  when  you  come  to  town,  Mr.  Bu- 
ford,"  she  called,  as  though  to  an  old  friend,  and 
still  Chad  was  dumb,  though  he  lifted  his  hat 
gravely. 

222 


CHADWICK  BUFORD,  GENTLEMAN 

At  no  time  was  Chad  alone  with  Margaret,  and 
he  was  not  sorry — her  manner  so  puzzled  him. 
The  three  lads  and  three  girls  walked  together 
through  Mrs.  Dean's  garden  with  its  grass  walks 
and  flower  beds  and  vegetable  patches  surrounded 
with  rose  bushes.  At  the  lower  edge  they  could  see 
the  barn  with  sheep  in  the  yard  around  it,  and 
there  were  the  very  stiles  where  Harry  and  Mar 
garet  had  sat  in  state  when  Dan  and  Chad  were 
charging  in  the  tournament.  The  thing  might 
never  have  happened  for  any  sign  from  Harry  or 
Dan  or  Margaret,  and  Chad  began  to  wonder  if 
his  past  or  his  present  were  a  dream. 

How  fine  this  courtesy  was  Chad  could  not 
realize.  Neither  could  he  know  that  the  favor 
Margaret  had  shown  him  when  he  was  little  more 
than  outcast  he  must  now,  as  an  equal,  win  for 
himself.  Miss  Jennie  had  called  him  "Mr.  Bu- 
ford."  He  wondered  what  Margaret  would  call 
him  when  he  came  to  say  good-by.  She  called  him 
nothing.  She  only  smiled  at  him. 

"  You  must  come  to  see  us  soon  again,"  she  said, 
graciously,  and  so  said  all  the  Deans. 

The  Major  was  quiet  going  home,  and  Miss 
Lucy  drowsed.  All  evening  the  Major  was  quiet. 

"If  a  fight  does  come,"  he  said,  when  they  were 
going  to  bed,  "I  reckon  I'm  not  too  old  to  take  a 
hand." 

"And  I  reckon  I'm  not  too  young,"  said  Chad. 
223 


XVIII 

THE     SPIRIT     OF     'j6     AND     THE     SHADOW     OF     '6l 


night,  in  the  following  April,  there  was  a 
great  dance  in  Lexington.  Next  day  the 
news  of  Sumter  came.  Chad  pleaded  to  be  let  off 
from  the  dance,  but  the  Major  would  not  hear  of 
it.  It  was  a  fancy-dress  ball,  and  the  Major  had 
a  pet  purpose  of  his  own  that  he  wanted  gratified, 
and  Chad  had  promised  to  aid  him.  That  fancy 
was  that  Chad  should  go  in  regimentals,  as  the 
stern,  old  soldier  on  the  wall,  of  whom  the  Major 
swore  the  boy  was  the  "spit  and  image."  The  Ma 
jor  himself  helped  Chad  dress  in  wig,  peruke, 
stock,  breeches,  boots,  spurs,  cocked  hat,  sword, 
and  all.  And  then  he  led  the  boy  down  into  the 
parlor,  where  Miss  Lucy  was  waiting  for  them,  and 
stood  him  up  on  one  side  of  the  portrait.  To  please 
the  old  fellow,  Chad  laughingly  struck  the  attitude 
of  the  pictured  soldier,  and  the  Major  cried: 

"What'd  I  tell  you,  Lucy!"  Then  he  advanced 
and  made  a  low  bow. 

"General  Buford,"  he  said,  "General  Washing 
ton's  compliments,  and  will  General  Buford  plant 

22J, 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   76  AND   THE   SHADOW   OF   '61 

the  flag  on  that  hill  where  the  left  wing  of  the 
British  is  entrenched  ?" 

"Hush,  Cal,"  said  Miss  Lucy,  laughing. 

"General  Buford's  compliments  to  General 
Washington.  General  Buford  will  plant  that  flag 
on  any  hill  that  any  enemy  holds  against  it." 

The  lad's  face  paled  as  the  words,  by  some  cu 
rious  impulse,  sprang  to  his  lips,  but  the  unsuspect 
ing  Major  saw  no  lurking  significance  in  his  man 
ner,  nor  in  what  he  said,  and  then  there  was  a  rum 
ble  of  carriage  wheels  at  the  door. 

The  winter  had  sped  swiftly.  Chad  had  done 
his  work  in  college  only  fairly  well,  for  Margaret 
had  been  a  disturbing  factor.  The  girl  was  an  im 
penetrable  mystery  to  him,  for  the  past  between 
them  was  not  only  wiped  clean — it  seemed  quite 
gone.  Once  only  had  he  dared  to  open  his  lips 
about  the  old  days,  and  the  girl's  flushed  silence 
made  a  like  mistake  forever  impossible.  He  came 
and  went  at  the  Deans'  as  he  pleased.  Always  they 
were  kind,  courteous,  hospitable — no  more,  no 
less,  unvaryingly.  During  the  Christmas  holidays 
he  and  Margaret  had  had  a  foolish  quarrel,  and  it 
was  then  that  Chad  took  his  little  fling  a,  Sis  little 
world — a  fling  that  was  foolish,  but  harmful, 
chiefly  in  that  it  took  his  time  and  his  mind  and  his 
energy  from  his  work.  He  not  only  neglected  his 
studies,  but  he  fell  in  with  the  wild  young  bucks  of 
the  town,  learned  to  play  cards,  took  more  wine 

225 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

than  was  good  for  him  sometimes,  was  on  the  verge 
of  several  duels,  and  night  after  night  raced  home 
in  his  buggy  against  the  coming  dawn.  Though 
Miss  Lucy  looked  worried,  the  indulgent  old  Ma 
jor  made  no  protest.  Indeed  he  was  rather  pleased. 
Chad  was  sowing  his  wild  oats — it  was  in  the 
blood,  and  the  mood  would  pass.  It  did  pass, 
naturally  enough,  on  the  very  day  that  the  breach 
between  him  and  Margaret  was  partly  healed;  and 
the  heart  of  Caleb  Hazel,  whom  Chad,  for  months, 
had  not  dared  to  face,  was  made  glad  when  the  boy 
came  back  to  him  remorseful  and  repentant — the 
old  Chad  once  more. 

They  were  late  in  getting  to  the  dance.  Every 
window  in  the  old  Hunt  home  was  brilliant  with 
light.  Chinese  lanterns  swung  in  the  big  yard. 
The  scent  of  early  spring  flowers  smote  the  fresh 
night  air.  Music  and  the  murmur  of  nimble  feet 
and  happy  laughter  swept  out  the  wide-open  doors 
past  which  white  figures  flitted  swiftly.  Scarcely 
anybody  knew  Chad  in  his  regimentals,  and  the 
Major,  with  the  delight  of  a  boy,  led  him  around, 
gravely  presenting  him  as  General  Buford  here  and 
there.  Indeed,  the  lad  made  a  noble  figure  with 
his  superb  height  and  bearing,  and  he  wore  sword 
and  spurs  as  though  born  to  them.  Margaret  was 
dancing  with  Richard  Hunt  when  she  saw  his  eyes 
searching  for  her  through  the  room,  and  she  gave 
him  a  radiant  smile  that  almost  stunned  him.  She 

226 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   76  AND   THE   SHADOW   OF   '61 

had  been  haughty  and  distant  when  he  went  to  her 
to  plead  forgiveness:  she  had  been  too  hard,  and 
Margaret,  too,  was  repentant. 

"Why,  who's  that  ?"  asked  Richard  Hunt.  "Oh, 
yes,"  he  added,  getting  his  answer  from  Margaret's 
face.  "  Bless  me,  but  he's  fine — the  very  spirit  of 
'76.  I  must  have  him  in  the  Rifles." 

"Will  you  make  him  a  lieutenant  ?"  asked  Mar 
garet. 

"Why,  yes,  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Hunt,  decisively. 
"I'll  resign  myself  in  his  favor,  if  it  pleases 
you." 

"Oh,  no,  no — no  one  could  fill  your  place.' 

"Well,  he  can,  I  fear — and  here  he  comes  to  oo 
it.  I'll  have  to  retreat  some  time,  and  I  suppose 
I'd  as  well  begin  now."  And  the  gallant  gentle 
man  bowed  to  Chad. 

"Will  you  pardon  me,  Miss  Margaret?  My 
mother  is  calling  me." 

"You  must  have  keen  ears,"  said  Margaret; 
"your  mother  is  upstairs." 

"Yes;  but  she  wants  me.  Everybody  wants  me, 
but—  "  he  bowed  again  with  an  imperturbable 
smile  and  went  his  way. 

Margaret  looked  demurely  into  Chad's  eager 
eyes. 

"And  how  is  the  spirit  of  '76  ?" 

"The  spirit  of '76  is  unchanged." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  is;    I  scarcely  knew  him." 
227 


"But  he's  unchanged;    he  never  will  change." 

Margaret  dropped  her  eyes  and  Chad  looked 
around. 

"I  wish  we  could  get  out  of  here.'* 

"We  can,"  said  Margaret,  demurely. 

"We  will!"  said  Chad,  and  he  made  for  a  door, 
outside  which  lanterns  were  swinging  in  the  wind. 
Margaret  caught  up  some  flimsy  garment  and 
wound  it  about  her  pretty  round  throat — they  call 
it  a  "fascinator"  in  the  South. 

Chad  looked  down  at  her. 

"I  wish  you  could  see  yourself;  I  wish  I  could 
tell  you  how  you  look." 

"I  have,"  said  Margaret,  "every  time  I  passed 
a  mirror.  And  other  people  have  told  me.  Mr. 
Hunt  did.  He  didn't  seem  to  have  much  trou 
ble." 

"I  wish  I  had  his  tongue." 

"If  you  had,  and  nothing  else,  you  wouldn't 
have  me" — Chad  started  as  the  little  witch  paused 
a  second,  drawling — "leaving  my  friends  and  this 
jolly  dance  to  go  out  into  a  freezing  yard  and  talk 
to  an  aged  Colonial  who  doesn't  appreciate  his 
modern  blessings.  The  next  thing  you'll  be  want 
ing,  I  suppose — will  be— 

"You,  Margaret;   you — you!" 

It  had  come  at  last  and  Margaret  hardly  knew 
the  choked  voice  that  interrupted  her.  She  had 
turned  her  back  to  him  to  sit  down.  She  paused  a 

228 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  76  AND  THE  SHADOW  OF  '61 

moment,  standing.  Her  eyes  closed;  a  slight 
tremor  ran  through  her,  and  she  sank  with  her  face 
in  her  hands.  Chad  stood  silent,  trembling.  Voices 
murmured  about  them,  but  like  the  music  in  the 
house,  they  seemed  strangely  far  away.  The  stir 
ring  of  the  wind  made  the  sudden  damp  on  his 
forehead  icy-cold.  Margaret's  hands  slowly  left 
her  face,  which  had  changed  as  by  a  miracle. 
Every  trace  of  coquetry  was  gone.  It  was  the  face 
of  a  woman  who  knew  her  own  heart,  and  had  the 
sweet  frankness  to  speak  it,  that  was  lifted  now  to 
Chad. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  are  what  you  are,  Chad;  but 
had  you  been  otherwise — that  would  have  made 
no  difference  to  me.  You  believe  that,  don't  you, 
Chad  ?  They  might  not  have  let  me  marry  you, 
but  I  should  have  cared,  just  the  same.  They  may 
not  now,  but  that,  too,  will  make  no  difference." 
She  turned  her  eyes  from  his  for  an  instant,  as 
though  she  were  looking  far  backward.  "Ever 
since  that  day,"  she  said,  slowly,  "when  I  heard 
you  say,  'Tell  the  little  gurl  I  didn't  mean  nothin' 
callin'  her  a  little  gal'  '  — there  was  a  low,  de 
licious  gurgle  in  the  throat  as  she  tried  to  imitate 
his  odd  speech,  and  then  her  eyes  suddenly  filled 
with  tears,  but  she  brushed  them  away,  smiling 
brightly.  "Ever  since  then,  Chad—  she 

stopped — a  shadow  fell  across  the  door  of  the  little 
summer  house. 

22Q 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"Here  I  am,  Mr.  Hunt,"  she  said,  lightly;  "is 
this  your  dance  ?"  She  rose  and  was  gone.  "Thank 
you,  Mr.  Buford,"  she  called  back,  sweetly. 

For  a  moment  Chad  stood  where  he  was,  quite 
dazed — so  quickly,  so  unexpectedly  had  the  crisis 
come.  The  blood  had  rushed  to  his  face  and 
flooded  him  with  triumphant  happiness.  A  terrible 
doubt  chilled  him  as  quickly.  Had  he  heard  aright 
— could  he  have  misunderstood  her  ?  Had  the 
dream  of  years  really  come  true  ?  What  was  it  she 
had  said  ?  He  stumbled  around  in  the  half  dark 
ness,  wondering.  Was  this  another  phase  of  her 
unceasing  coquetry  ?  How  quickly  her  tone  had 
changed  when  Richard  Hunt's  shadow  came.  At 
that  moment,  he  neither  could  nor  would  have 
changed  a  hair  had  some  genie  dropped  them  both 
in  the  midst  of  the  crowded  ball-room.  He  turned 
swiftly  toward  the  dancers.  He  must  see,  know 
— now! 

The  dance  was  a  quadrille  and  the  figure  was 
"Grand  right  and  left."  Margaret  had  met  Rich 
ard  Hunt  opposite,  half-way,  when  Chad  reached 
the  door  and  was  curtseying  to  him  with  a  radiant 
smile.  Again  the  boy's  doubts  beat  him  fiercely; 
and  then  Margaret  turned  her  head,  as  though  she 
knew  he  must  be  standing  there.  Her  face  grew 
so  suddenly  serious  and  her  eyes  softened  with 
such  swift  tenderness  when  they  met  his,  that  a 
wave  of  guilty  shame  swept  through  him.  And 

230 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   '76  AND   THE   SHADOW  OF  '01 

when  she  came  around  to  him  and  passed,  she 
leaned  from  the  circle  toward  him,  merry  and 
mock-reproachful : 

"You  mustn't  look  at  me  like  that,"  she  whis 
pered,  and  Hunt,  close  at  hand,  saw,  guessed  and 
smiled.  Chad  turned  quickly  away  again. 

That  happy  dawn — going  home!  The  Major 
drowsed  and  fell  asleep.  The  first  coming  light, 
the  first  cool  breath  that  was  stealing  over  the 
awakening  fields,  the  first  spring  leaves  with  their 
weight  of  dew,  were  not  more  fresh  and  pure  than 
the  love  that  was  in  the  boy's  heart.  He  held  his 
right  hand  in  his  left,  as  though  he  were  imprison 
ing  there  the  memory  of  the  last  little  clasp  that  she 
had  given  it.  He  looked  at  the  Major,  and  he 
wondered  how  anybody  on  earth,  at  that  hour, 
could  be  asleep.  He  thought  of  the  wasted  days 
of  the  past  few  months;  the  silly,  foolish  life  he 
had  led,  and  thanked  God  that,  in  the  memory  of 
them,  there  was  not  one  sting  of  shame.  How  he 
would  work  for  her  now!  Little  guessing  how 
proud  she  already  was,  he  swore  to  himself  how 
proud  she  should  be  of  him  some  day.  He  won 
dered  where  she  was,  and  what  she  was  doing. 
She  could  not  be  asleep,  and  he  must  have  cried 
aioud  could  he  have  known — could  he  have  heard 
her  on  her  knees  at  her  bedside,  whispering  his 
name  for  the  first  time  in  her  prayers;  could  he 
have  seen  her,  a  little  later,  at  her  open  window, 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

looking  across  the  fields,  as  though  her  eyes  must 
reach  him  through  the  morning  dusk. 

That  happy  dawn — for  both,  that  happy  dawn! 

It  was  well  that  neither,  at  that  hour,  could  see 
beyond  the  rim  of  his  own  little  world.  In  a  far 
Southern  city  another  ball,  that  night,  had  been  go 
ing  on.  Down  there  the  air  was  charged  with  the 
prescience  of  dark  trouble,  but,  while  the  music 
moaned  to  many  a  heart  like  a  god  in  pain,  there 
was  no  brooding — only  a  deeper  flush  to  the  cheek, 
a  brighter  sparkle  to  the  eye,  a  keener  wit  to  the 
tongue;  to  the  dance,  a  merrier  swing.  And  at  that 
very  hour  of  dawn,  ladies,  slippered,  bare  of  head, 
and  in  evening  gowns,  were  fluttering  like  white 
moths  along  the  streets  of  old  Charleston,  and 
down  to  the  Battery,  where  Fort  Sumter  lay,  gray 
and  quiet  in  the  morning  mist — to  await  with  jest 
and  laughter  the  hissing  shriek  of  one  shell  that 
lighted  the  fires  of  a  four  years'  hell  in  a  happy 
land  of  God-fearing  peace  and  God-given  plenty, 
and  the  hissing  shriek  of  another  that  Anderson, 
Kentuckian,  hurled  back,  in  heroic  defence  of  the 
flag  struck  for  the  first  time  by  other  than  an  alien 
hand. 


232 


XIX 

THE    BLUE    OR   THE    GRAY 

TN  the  far  North,  as  in  the  far  South,  men  had 
but  to  drift  with  the  tide.  Among  the  Ken- 
tuckians,  the  forces  that  moulded  her  sons — Davis 
and  Lincoln — were  at  war  in  the  State,  as  they  were 
at  war  in  the  nation.  By  ties  of  blood,  sympathies, 
institutions,  Kentucky  was  bound  fast  to  the  South. 
Yet,  ten  years  before,  Kentuckians  had  demanded 
the  gradual  emancipation  of  the  slave.  That  far 
back,  they  had  carved  a  pledge  on  a  block  of  Ken 
tucky  marble,  which  should  be  placed  in  the  Wash 
ington  monument,  that  Kentucky  would  be  the  last 
to  give  up  the  Union.  For  ten  years,  they  had 
felt  the  shadow  of  the  war  creeping  toward  them. 
In  the  dark  hours  of  that  dismal  year,  before  the 
dawn  of  final  decision,  the  men,  women,  and  chil 
dren  of  Kentucky  talked  of  little  else  save  war,  and 
the  skeleton  of  war  took  its  place  in  the  closet  of 
every  home  from  the  Ohio  to  the  crest  of  the  Cum 
berland.  When  the  dawn  of  that  decision  came, 
Kentucky  spread  before  the  world  a  record  of  in- 
dependent-mindedness,  patriotism,  as  each  side  saw 
the  word,  and  sacrifice  that  has  no  parallel  in  his- 

233 


tory.  She  sent  the  flower  of  her  youth — forty 
thousand  strong — into  the  Confederacy;  she  lifted 
the  lid  of  her  treasury  to  Lincoln,  and  in  answer 
to  his  every  call,  sent  him  a  soldier,  practically 
without  a  bounty  and  without  a  draft.  And  when 
the  curtain  fell  on  the  last  act  of  the  great  tragedy, 
half  of  her  manhood  was  behind  it — helpless  from 
disease,  wounded,  or  dead  on  the  battle-field. 

So,  on  a  gentle  April  day,  when  the  great  news 
came,  it  came  like  a  sword  that,  with  one  stroke, 
slashed  the  State  in  twain,  shearing  through  the 
strongest  bonds  that  link  one  man  to  another, 
whether  of  blood,  business,  politics  or  religion,  as 
though  they  were  no  more  than  threads  of  wool. 
Nowhere  in  the  Union  was  the  National  drama  so 
played  to  the  bitter  end  in  the  confines  of  a  single 
State.  As  the  nation  was  rent  apart,  so  was  the 
commonwealth;  as  the  State,  so  was  the  county; 
as  the  county,  the  neighborhood;  as  the  neighbor 
hood,  the  family;  and  as  the  family,  so  brother 
and  brother,  father  and  son.  In  the  nation  the 
kinship  was  racial  only.  Brother  knew  not  the  face 
of  brother.  There  was  distance  between  them,  an 
tagonism,  prejudice,  a  smouldering  dislike  easily 
fanned  to  flaming  hatred.  In  Kentucky  the  broth 
ers  had  been  born  in  the  same  bed,  slept  in  the  same 
cradle,  played  under  the  same  roof,  sat  side  by 
side  in  the  same  schoolroom,  and  stood  now  on  the 
threshold  of  manhood  arm  in  arm,  with  mutual  in- 

234 


THE  BLUE  OR  THE  GRAY 

terests,  mutual  love,  mutual  pride  in  family  that 
made  clan  feeling  peculiarly  intense.  For  anti- 
slavery  fanaticism,  or  honest  unionism,  one  needed 
nr>t  to  go  to  the  far  North;  as,  for  imperious,  hot 
headed,  non-interference  or  pure  State  sovereignty, 
one  needed  not  to  go  to  the  far  South.  They  were 
all  there  in  the  State,  the  county,  the  family — under 
the  same  roof.  Along  the  border  alone  did  feel 
ing  approach  uniformity — the  border  of  Kentucky 
hills.  There  unionism  was  free  from  prejudice  as 
nowhere  else  on  the  continent  save  elsewhere 
throughout  the  Southern  mountains.  Those  South 
ern  Yankees  knew  nothing  about  the  valley  aris 
tocrat,  nothing  about  his  slaves,  and  cared  as  little 
for  one  as  for  the  other.  Since  '76  they  had  known 
but  one  flag,  and  one  flag  only,  and  to  that  flag  in 
stinctively  they  rallied.  But  that  the  State  should 
be  swept  from  border  to  border  with  horror,  there 
was  division  even  here:  for,  in  the  Kentucky  moun 
tains,  there  was,  here  and  there,  a  patriarch  like 
Joel  Turner  who  owned  slaves,  and  he  and  his  sons 
fought  for  them  as  he  and  his  sons  would  have 
fought  for  their  horses,  or  their  cattle,  or  their  sheep. 
It  was  the  prescient  horror  of  such  a  condition 
that  had  no  little  part  in  the  neutral  stand  that  Ken 
tucky  strove  to  maintain.  She  knew  what  war  was 
— for  every  fireside  was  rich  in  memories  that  men 
and  women  had  of  kindred  who  had  fallen  on  num 
berless  battle-fields — back  even  to  St.  Clair's  de- 

235 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

feat  and  the  Raisin  massacre;  and  though  she  did 
not  fear  war  for  its  harvest  of  dangers  and  death, 
she  did  look  with  terror  on  a  conflict  between  neigh 
bors,  friends,  and  brothers.  So  she  refused  troops 
to  Lincoln;  she  refused  them  to  Davis.  Both 
pledged  her  immunity  from  invasion,  and,  to  en 
force  that  pledge,  she  raised  Home  Guards  as  she 
had  already  raised  State  Guards  for  internal  pro 
tection  and  peace.  And  there — as  a  State — she 
stood:  but  the  tragedy  went  on  in  the  Kentucky 
home — a  tragedy  of  peculiar  intensity  and  pathos 
in  one  Kentucky  home — the  Deans'. 

Harry  had  grown  up  tall,  pale,  studious,  brood 
ing.  He  had  always  been  the  pet  of  his  Uncle 
Brutus — the  old  Lion  of  White  Hall.  Visiting  the 
Hall,  he  had  drunk  in  the  poison,  or  consecration, 
as  was  the  point  of  view,  of  abolitionism.  At  the 
first  sign  he  was  never  allowed  to  go  again.  But 
the  poison  had  gone  deep.  Whenever  he  could  he 
went  to  hear  old  Brutus  speak.  Eagerly  he  heard 
stories  of  the  fearless  abolitionist's  hand-to-hand 
fights  with  men  who  sought  to  skewer  his  fiery 
tongue.  Deeply  he  brooded  on  every  word  that  his 
retentive  ear  had  caught  from  the  old  man's  lips, 
and  on  the  wrongs  he  endured  in  behalf  of  his  cause 
and  for  freedom  of  speech. 

One  other  hero  did  he  place  above  him — the 
great  commoner  after  whom  he  had  been  chris 
tened,  Henry  Clay  Dean.  He  knew  how  Clay's 

236 


THE  BLUE  OR  THE  GRAY 

life  had  been  devoted  to  averting  the  coming  war, 
and  how  his  last  days  had  been  darkly  shadowed 
by  the  belief  that,  when  he  was  gone,  the  war  must 
come.  At  times  he  could  hear  that  clarion  voice 
as  it  rang  through  the  Senate  with  the  bold  chal 
lenge  to  his  own  people  that  paramount  was  his 
duty  to  the  nation — subordinate  his  duty  to  his 
State.  Who  can  tell  what  the  nation  owed,  in  Ken 
tucky,  at  least,  to  the  passionate  allegiance  that 
was  broadcast  through  the  State  to  Henry  Clay  ? 
It  was  not  in  the  boy's  blood  to  be  driven  an  inch, 
and  no  one  tried  to  drive  him.  In  his  own  home  he 
was  a  spectre  of  gnawing  anguish  to  his  mother 
and  Margaret,  of  unspeakable  bitterness  and  dis 
appointment  to  his  father,  and  an  impenetrable 
sphinx  to  Dan.  For  in  Dan  there  was  no  shaking 
doubt.  He  was  the  spirit,  incarnate,  of  the  young, 
unquestioning,  unthinking,  generous,  reckless,  hot 
headed,  passionate  South. 

And  Chad  ?  The  news  reached  Major  Buford's 
farm  at  noon,  and  Chad  went  to  the  woods  and 
came  in  at  dusk,  haggard  and  spent.  Miserably 
now  he  held  his  tongue  and  tortured  his  brain. 
Purposely,  he  never  opened  his  lips  to  Harry  Dean. 
He  tried  to  make  known  to  the  Major  the  struggle 
going  on  within  him,  but  the  iron-willed  old  man 
brushed  away  all  argument  with  an  impatient  wave 
of  his  hand.  With  Margaret  he  talked  once,  and 
straightway  the  question  was  dropped  like  a  living 

237 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COMK 

coal.  So,  Chad  withdrew  from  his  fellows.  The 
social  life  of  the  town,  gayer  than  ever  now, 
knew  him  no  more.  He  kept  up  his  college 
work,  but  when  he  was  not  at  his  books,  he 
walked  the  fields,  and  many  a  moonlit  midnight 
found  him  striding  along  a  white  turnpike,  or  sit 
ting  motionless  on  top  of  a  fence  along  the  border 
of  some  woodland,  his  chin  in  both  hands,  fighting 
his  fight  out  in  the  cool  stillness  alone.  He  him 
self  little  knew  the  unmeant  significance  there  was 
in  the  old  Continental  uniform  he  had  worn  to  the 
dance.  Even  his  old  rifle,  had  he  but  known  it, 
had  been  carried  with  Daniel  Morgan  from  Vir 
ginia  to  Washington's  aid  in  Cambridge.  His  earli 
est  memories  of  war  were  rooted  in  thrilling  stories 
of  King's  Mountain.  He  had  heard  old  men  tell  of 
pointing  deadly  rifles  at  red-coats  at  New  Orleans, 
and  had  absorbed  their  own  love  of  Old  Hickory. 
The  school-master  himself,  when  a  mere  lad,  had 
been  with  Scott  in  Mexico.  The  spirit  of  the  back 
woodsman  had  been  caught  in  the  hills,  and  was 
alive  and  unchanged  at  that  very  hour.  The  boy 
was  practically  born  in  Revolutionary  days,  and 
that  was  why,  like  all  mountaineers,  Chad  had  lit 
tle  love  of  State  and  only  love  of  country — was 
first,  last  and  all  the  time,  simply  American.  It 
was  not  reason — it  was  instinct.  The  heroes  the 
school-master  had  taught  him  to  love  and  some 
day  to  emulate,  had  fought  under  one  flag,  and,  like 

238 


THE  BLUE  OR  THE  GRAY 

them,  the  mountaineers  never  dreamed  there  could 
be  another.  And  so  the  boy  was  an  unconscious 
reincarnation  of  that  old  spirit,  uninfluenced  by 
temporary  apostasies  in  the  outside  world,  un 
touched  absolutely  by  sectional  prejudice  or  the  ap 
peal  of  the  slave.  The  mountaineer  had  no  hatred 
of  the  valley  aristocrat,  because  he  knew  nothing 
of  him,  and  envied  no  man  what  he  was,  what  he 
had,  or  the  life  he  led.  So,  as  for  slavery,  that 
question,  singularly  enough,  never  troubled  his 
soul.  To  him  slaves  were  hewers  of  wood  and 
drawers  of  water.  The  Lord  had  made  them  so, 
and  the  Bible  said  that  it  was  right.  That  the 
school-master  had  taught  Chad.  He  had  read 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  and  the  story  made  him 
smile.  The  tragedies  of  it  he  had  never  known 
and  he  did  not  believe.  Slaves  were  sleek,  well- 
fed,  well-housed,  loved  and  trusted,  rightly  inferior 
and  happy;  and  no  aristocrat  ever  moved  among 
them  with  a  more  lordly,  righteous  air  of  author 
ity  than  did  this  mountain  lad  who  had  known  them 
little  more  than  half  a  dozen  years.  Unlike  the 
North,  the  boy  had  no  prejudice,  no  antagonism, 
no  jealousy,  no  grievance  to  help  him  in  his  strug 
gle.  Unlike  Harry,  he  had  no  slave  sympathy  to 
stir  him  to  the  depths,  no  stubborn,  rebellious  pride 
to  prod  him  on.  In  the  days  when  the  school-mas 
ter  thundered  at  him  some  speech  of  the  Prince  of 
Kentuckians,  it  was  always  the  national  thrill  in  the 

239 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

fiery  utterance  that  had  shaken  him  even  then.  So 
that  unconsciously  the  boy  was  the  embodiment  of 
pure  Americanism,  and  for  that  reason  he  and  the 
people  among  whom  he  was  born  stood  among  the 
millions  on  either  side,  quite  alone. 

What  was  he  fighting  then — ah,  what  ?  If  the 
bed-rock  of  his  character  was  not  loyalty,  it  was 
nothing.  In  the  mountains  the  Turners  had  taken 
him  from  the  Wilderness.  In  the  Bluegrass  the 
old  Major  had  taken  him  from  the  hills.  His  very 
life  he  owed  to  the  simple,  kindly  mountaineers, 
and  what  he  valued  more  than  his  life  he  owed  to 
the  simple  gentleman  who  had  picked  him  up  from 
the  roadside  and,  almost  without  question,  had 
taken  him  to  his  heart  and  to  his  home.  The  Tur 
ners,  he  knew,  would  fight  for  their  slaves  as  they 
would  have  fought  Dillon  or  Devil  had  either  pro 
posed  to  take  from  them  a  cow,  a  hog,  or  a  sheep. 
For  that  Chad  could  not  blame  them.  And  the 
Major  was  going  to  fight,  as  he  believed,  for  his 
liberty,  his  State,  his  country,  his  property,  his  fire 
side.  So  in  the  eyes  of  both,  Chad  must  be  the 
snake  who  had  warmed  his  frozen  body  on  their 
hearthstones  and  bitten  the  kindly  hands  that  had 
warmed  him  back  to  life.  What  would  Melissa 
say  ?  Mentally  he  shrank  from  the  fire  of  her  eyes 
and  the  scorn  of  her  tongue  when  she  should  know. 
And  Margaret — the  thought  of  her  brought  al 
ways  a  voiceless  groan.  To  her,  he  had  let  his 

240 


THE  BLUE  OR  THE  GRAY 

doubts  be  known,  and  her  white  silence  closed  his 
own  lips  then  and  there.  The  simple  fact  that  he 
had  doubts  was  an  entering  wedge  of  coldness  be 
tween  them  that  Chad  saw  must  force  them  apart; 
for  he  knew  that  the  truth  must  come  soon,  and 
what  would  be  the  bitter  cost  of  that  truth.  She 
could  never  see  him  as  she  saw  Harry.  Harry 
was  a  beloved  and  erring  brother.  Hatred  of 
slavery  had  been  cunningly  planted  in  his  heart 
by  her  father's  own  brother,  upon  whose  head  the 
blame  for  Harry's  sin  was  set.  The  boy  had 
been  taunted  until  his  own  father's  scorn  had 
stirred  his  proud  independence  into  stubborn  re 
sistance  and  intensified  his  resolution  to  do  what 
he  pleased  and  what  he  thought  was  right.  But 
Chad — she  would  never  understand  him.  She 
would  never  understand  his  love  for  the  Govern 
ment  that  had  once  abandoned  her  people  to 
savages  and  forced  her  State  and  his  to  seek  aid 
from  a  foreign  land.  In  her  eyes,  too,  he  would 
be  rending  the  hearts  that  had  been  tenderest  to 
him  in  all  the  world:  and  that  was  all.  Of  what 
fate  she  would  deal  out  to  him  he  dared  not  think. 
If  he  lifted  his  hand  against  the  South,  he  must 
strike  at  the  heart  of  all  he  loved  best,  to  which  he 
owed  most.  If  against  the  Union,  at  the  heart  of 
all  that  was  best  in  himself.  In  him  the  pure  spirit 
that  gave  birth  to  the  nation  was  fighting  for  life. 
Ah,  God!  what  should  he  do — what  should  he  do  ? 

241 


XX 

OFF   TO   THE    WAR 

'"THROUGHOUT  that  summer  Chad  fought 
his  fight,  daily  swaying  this  way  and  that- 
fought  it  in  secret  until  the  phantom  of  neutral 
ity  faded  and  gave  place  to  the  grim  spectre  of 
war — until  with  each  hand  Kentucky  drew  a  sword 
and  made  ready  to  plunge  both  into  her  own 
stout  heart.  When  Sumter  fell,  she  shook  her 
head  resolutely  to  both  North  and  South.  Crit- 
tenden,  in  the  name  of  Union  lovers  and  the  dead 
Clay,  pleaded  with  the  State  to  take  no  part  in  the 
fratricidal  crime.  From  the  mothers,  wives,  sis 
ters  and  daughters  of  thirty-one  counties  came 
piteously  the  same  appeal.  Neutrality,  to  be  held 
inviolate,  was  the  answer  to  the  cry  from  both  the 
North  and  the  South;  but  armed  neutrality,  said 
Kentucky.  The  State  had  not  the  moral  right  to 
secede;  the  Nation,  no  constitutional  right  to  co 
erce:  if  both  the  North  and  the  South  left  their 
paths  of  duty  and  fought — let  both  keep  their  bat 
tles  from  her  soil.  Straightway  State  Guards  went 
into  camp  and  Home  Guards  were  held  in  reserve, 
but  there  was  not  a  fool  in  the  Commonwealth  who 

242 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

did  not  know  that,  in  sympathy,  the  State  Guards 
were  already  for  the  Confederacy  and  the  Home 
Guards  for  the  Union  cause.  This  was  in  May. 
In  June,  Federals  were  enlisting  across  the  Ohio; 
Confederates,  just  over  the  border  of  Dixie  which 
begins  in  Tennessee.  Within  a  month  Stonewall 
Jackson  sat  on  his  horse,  after  Bull  Run,  watching 
the  routed  Yankees,  praying  for  fresh  men  that  he 
might  go  on  and  take  the  Capitol,  and,  from  the 
Federal  dream  of  a  sixty-days'  riot,  the  North 
woke  with  a  gasp.  A  week  or  two  later,  Camp 
Dick  Robinson  squatted  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
Bluegrass,  the  first  violation  of  the  State's  neu 
trality,  and  beckoned  with  both  hands  for  Yankee 
recruits.  Soon  an  order  went  round  to  disarm  the 
State  Guards,  and  on  that  very  day  the  State  Guards 
made  ready  for  Dixie.  On  that  day  the  crisis  came 
at  the  Deans',  and  on  that  day  Chad  Buford  made 
up  his  mind.  When  the  Major  and  Miss  Lucy  went 
to  bed  that  night,  he  slipped  out  of  the  house  and 
walked  through  the  yard  and  across  the  pike,  fol 
lowing  the  little  creek  half  unconsciously  toward 
the  Deans',  until  he  could  see  the  light  in  Mar 
garet's  window,  and  there  he  climbed  the  worm 
fence  and  sat  leaning  his  head  against  one  of  the 
forked  stakes  with  his  hat  in  his  lap.  He  would 
probably  not  see  her  again.  He  would  send  her 
word  next  morning  to  ask  that  he  might,  and  he 
feared  what  the  result  of  that  word  would  be.  Sev- 

243 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

eral  times  his  longing  eyes  saw  her  shadow  pass 
the  curtain,  and  when  her  light  was  out,  he  closed 
his  eyes  and  sat  motionless — how  long  he  hardly 
knew;  but,  when  he  sprang  down,  he  was  stiffened 
from  the  midnight  chill  and  his  unchanged  posture. 
He  went  back  to  his  room  then,  and  wrote  Mar 
garet  a  letter  and  tore  it  up  and  went  to  bed.  There 
was  little  sleep  for  him  that  night,  and  when  the 
glimmer  of  morning  brightened  at  his  window,  he 
rose  listlessly,  dipped  his  hot  head  in  a  bowl  of  wa 
ter  and  stole  out  to  the  barn.  His  little  mare  whin 
nied  a  welcome  as  he  opened  the  barn  door.  He 
patted  her  on  the  neck. 

"Good-by,  little  girl,"  he  said.  He  started  to 
call  her  by  name  and  stopped.  Margaret  had 
named  the  beautiful  creature  "Dixie."  The  ser 
vants  were  stirring. 

"Good-mawnin',  Mars  Chad,"  said  each,  and 
with  each  he  shook  hands,  saying  simply  that  he 
was  going  away  that  morning.  Only  old  Tom 
asked  him  a  question. 

"Foh  Gawd,  Mars  Chad,"  said  the  old  fellow, 
"old  Mars  Buford  can't  git  along  widout  you. 
You  gwine  to  come  back  soon  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  Uncle  Tom,"  said  Chad,  sadly, 

"Whar  you  gwine,  Mars  Chad  ?" 

"Into  the  army." 

"De  ahmy?"  The  old  man  smiled.  "You 
gwine  to  fight  de  Yankees?" 

244 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

"I'm  going  to  fight  with  the  Yankees." 

The  old  driver  looked  as  though  he  could  not 
have  heard  aright. 

"You  fbolin'  this  ole  nigger,  Mars  Chad,  ain't 
you?" 

Chad  shook  his  head,  and  the  old  man  straight 
ened  himself  a  bit. 

"I'se  sorry  to  heah  it,  suh,"  he  said,  with  dig 
nity,  and  he  turned  to  his  work. 

Miss  Lucy  was  not  feeling  well  that  morning 
and  did  not  come  down  to  breakfast.  The  boy 
was  so  pale  and  haggard  that  the  Major  looked  at 
him  anxiously. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Chad  ?  Are  you 
sick  ? " 

"I  didn't  sleep  very  well  last  night,  Major." 

The  Major  chuckled.  "I  reckon  you  ain't  get- 
tin'  enough  sleep  these  days.  I  reckon  I  wouldn't, 
either,  if  I  were  in  your  place." 

Chad  did  not  answer.  After  breakfast  he  sat 
with  the  Major  on  the  porch  in  the  fresh,  sunny  air. 
The  Major  smoked  his  pipe,  taking  the  stem  out  of 
his  mouth  now  and  then  to  shout  some  order  as  a 
servant  passed  under  his  eye. 

"What's  the  news,  Chad?" 

"Mr.  Crittenden  is  back." 

"What  did  old  Lincoln  say?" 

"That  Camp  Dick  Robinson  was  formed  for 
KentuckiansbyKentuckians,  and  he  did  not  believe 

245 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

that  it  was  the  wish  of  the  State  that  it  should  be 
removed." 

"Well,  by !  after  his  promise.     What  did 

Davis  say  ?" 

"That  if  Kentucky  opened  the  Northern  door 
for  invasion,  she  must  not  close  the  Southern  door 
to  entrance  for  defence." 

"And  dead  right  he  is,"  growled  the  Major  with 
satisfaction. 

"Governor  Magoffin  asked  Ohio  and  Indiana  to 
join  in  an  effort  for  a  peace  Congress,"  Chad 
added. 

"Well?" 

"Both  governors  refused." 

"I  tell  you,  boy,  the  hour  has  come." 

The  hour  had  come. 

"I'm  going  away  this  morning,  Major." 

The  Major  did  not  even  turn  his  head. 

"I  thought  this  was  coming,"  he  said  quietly. 
Chad's  face  grew  even  paler,  and  he  steeled  his 
heart  for  the  revelation. 

"I've  already  spoken  to  Lieutenant  Hunt,"  the 
Major  went  on.  "He  expects  to  be  a  captain,  and 
he  says  that,  maybe,  he  can  make  you  a  lieutenant. 
You  can  take  that  boy  Brutus  as  a  body  servant." 
He  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  railing  of  the 
porch.  "God,  but  I'd  give  the  rest  of  my  life  to 
be  ten  years  younger  than  I  am  now." 

"Major,  I'm  going  into  the  Union  army" 
246 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

The  Major's  pipe  almost  dropped  from  between 
his  lips.  Catching  the  arms  of  his  chair  with  both 
hands,  he  turned  heavily  and  with  dazed  wonder, 
as  though  the  boy  had  struck  him  with  his  fist 
from  behind,  and,  without  a  word,  stared  hard  into 
Chad's  tortured  face.  The  keen  old  eye  had  not 
long  to  look  before  it  saw  the  truth,  and  then,  si 
lently,  the  old  man  turned  back.  His  hands  trem 
bled  on  the  chair,  and  he  slowly  thrust  them  into 
his  pockets,  breathing  hard  through  his  nose.  The 
boy  expected  an  outbreak,  but  none  came.  A  bee 
buzzed  above  them.  A  yellow  butterfly  zigzagged 
by.  Blackbirds  chattered  in  the  firs.  The  screech 
of  a  peacock  shrilled  across  the  yard,  and  a  plough 
man's  singing  wailed  across  the  fields: 

Trouble,  O  Lawd! 

Nothin'  but  trouble  in  de  Ian'  of  Canaan. 

The  boy  knew  he  had  given  his  old  friend  a  mor 
tal  hurt. 

"Don't,  Major,"  he  pleaded.  "You  don't  know 
how  I  have  fought  against  this.  I  tried  to  be  on 
your  side.  I  thought  I  was.  I  joined  the  Rifles. 
I  found  first  that  I  couldn't  fight  with  the  South, 
and — then — I — found  that  I  had  to  fight  for  the 
North.  It  almost  kills  me  when  I  think  of  all  you 
have  done — 

The  Major  waved  his  hand  imperiously.  He 
was  not  the  man  to  hear  his  favors  recounted,  much 

247 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

less  refer  to  them  himself.  He  straightened  and 
got  up  from  his  chair.  His  manner  had  grown  for 
mal,  stately,  coldly  courteous. 

"I  cannot  understand,  but  you  are  old  enough, 
sir,  to  know  your  own  mind.  You  should  have  pre 
pared  me  for  this.  You  will  excuse  me  a  moment." 
Chad  rose  and  the  Major  walked  toward  the  door, 
his  step  not  very  steady,  and  his  shoulders  a  bit 
shrunken — his  back,  somehow,  looked  suddenly 
old. 

"Brutus!"  he  called  sharply  to  a  black  boy  who 
was  training  rosebushes  in  the  yard.  "Saddle  Mr. 
Chad's  horse."  Then,  without  looking  again  at 
Chad,  he  turned  into  his  office,  and  Chad,  stand 
ing  where  he  was,  with  a  breaking  heart,  could 
hear,  through  the  open  window,  the  rustling  of 
papers  and  the  scratching  of  a  pen. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  heard  the  Major  rise  and  he 
turned  to  meet  him.  The  old  man  held  a  roll  of 
bills  in  one  hand  and  a  paper  in  the  other. 

"Here  is  the  balance  due  you  on  our  last  trade," 
he  said,  quietly.  'The  mare  is  yours — Dixie,"  he 
added,  grimly.  'The  old  mare  is  in  foal.  I  will 
keep  her  and  send  you  your  due  when  the  time 
comes.  We  are  quite  even,"  he  went  on  in  a  level 
tone  of  business.  "Indeed,  what  you  have  done 
about  the  place  more  than  exceeds  any  expense  that 
you  have  ever  caused  me.  If  anything,  I  am  still 
in  your  debt." 

248 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

"I  can't  take  it,"  said  Chad,  choking  back  a  sob, 

"You  will  have  to  take  it,"  the  Major  broke  in, 
curtly,  "unless —  "  the  Major  held  back  the  bit 
ter  speech  that  was  on  his  lips  and  Chad  under 
stood.  The  old  man  did  not  want  to  feel  under 
any  obligations  to  him. 

"I  would  offer  you  Brutus,  as  was  my  intention, 
except  that  I  know  you  would  not  take  him — 
again  he  added,  grimly,  "and  Brutus  would  run 
away  from  you.'* 

"No,  Major,"  said  Chad,  sadly,  "I  would  not 
take  Brutus,"  and  he  stepped  down  one  step  of  the 
porch  backward. 

"I  tried  to  tell  you,  Major,  but  you  wouldn't 
listen.     I  don't  wonder,  for  I  couldn't  explain  to 
you  what  I  couldn't  understand  myself.     I— 
the  boy  choked  and  tears  filled  his  eyes.     He  was 
afraid  to  hold  out  his  hand. 

"Good-by,  Major,"  he  said,  brokenly. 

"Good-by,  sir,"  answered  the  Major,  with  a 
stiff  bow,  but  the  old  man's  lip  shook  and  he  turned 
abruptly  within. 

Chad  did  not  trust  himself  to  look  back,  but,  as 
he  rode  through  the  pasture  to  the  pike  gate,  his 
ears  heard,  never  to  forget,  the  chatter  of  the  black 
birds,  the  noises  around  the  barn,  the  cry  of  the 
peacock,  and  the  wailing  of  the  ploughman: 

Trouble,  O  Lawd! 
Nothin'  but  trouble 

240 


THE   LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

At  the  gate  the  little  mare  turned  her  head 
toward  town  and  started  away  in  the  easy  swinging 
lope  for  which  she  was  famous.  From  a  cornfield 
Jerome  Conners,  the  overseer,  watched  horse  and 
rider  for  a  while,  and  then  his  lips  were  lifted  over 
his  protruding  teeth  in  one  of  his  ghastly,  infre 
quent  smiles.  Chad  Buford  was  out  of  his  way 
at  last.  At  the  Deans'  gate,  Snowball  was  just 
going  in  on  Margaret's  pony  and  Chad  pulled  up. 

"Where's  Mr.  Dan,  Snowball?  —  and  Mr. 
Harry?'* 

"  Mars  Dan  he  gwine  to  de  wah  —  an'  I'se  gwine 
wid  him." 

"Is  Mr.  Harry  going,  too?"  Snowball  hesi 
tated.  He  did  not  like  to  gossip  about  family  mat 
ters,  but  it  was  a  friend  ®f  the  family  who  was 
questioning  him. 

"Yessuh!  But  Mammy  say  Mars  Harry's 
teched  in  de  haid.  He  gwine  to  fight  wid  de  po* 
white  trash." 

"Is  Miss  Margaret  at  home?" 

"Yessuh." 

Chad  had  his  note  to  Margaret,  unsealed.  He 
little  felt  like  seeing  her  now,  but  he  had  just  as 
well  have  it  all  over  at  once.  He  took  it  out  and 
looked  it  over  once  more — irresolute. 

"I'm  going  away  to  join  the  Union  army,  Mar 
garet.  May  I  come  to  tell  you  good-by  ?  If  not,, 
God  bless  you  always.  CHAD." 

250 


The  old  man's  lip  «hook  and  he  turned  abruptly  w'thi 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 

this  to  Miss  Margaret,  Snowball,  and 
bring  me  an  answer  here  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"Yessuh." 

The  black  boy  was  not  gone  long.  Chad  saw 
him  go  up  the  steps,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  re 
appeared  and  galloped  back. 

"Ole  Mistis  say  dey  ain't  no  answer." 

"Thank  you,  Snowball."  Chad- pitched  him  a 
coin  and  loped  on  toward  Lexington  with  his  head 
bent,  his  hands  folded  on  the  pommel,  and  the 
reins  flapping  loosely.  Within  one  mile  of  Lex 
ington  he  turned  into  a  cross-road  and  set  his  face 
toward  the  mountains. 

An  hour  later,  the  General  and  Harry  and  Dan 
stood  on  the  big  portico.  Inside,  the  mother  and 
Margaret  were  weeping  in  each  other's  arms.  Two 
negro  boys  were  each  leading  a  saddled  horse  from 
the  stable,  while  Snowball  was  blubbering  at  the 

7  O 

corner  of  the  house.  At  the  last  moment  Dan  had 
decided  to  leave  him  behind.  If  Harry  could  have 
no  servant,  Dan,  too,  would  have  none.  Dan  was 
crying  without  shame.  Harry's  face  was  as  white 
and  stern  as  his  father's.  As  the  horses  drew  near 
the  General  stretched  out  the  sabre  in  his  hand  to 
Dan. 

'This  should  belong  to  you,  Harry." 
"It  is  yours  to  give,  father,"  said  Harry,  gently. 
"It  shall  never  be  drawn  against  my  roof  and 
your  mother." 

251 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

The  boy  was  silent, 

"You  are  going  far  Nortn  5  ^sked  the  General, 
more  gently.  "You  will  not  light  on  Kentucky 
soil?" 

"You  taught  me  that  the  first  duty  of  a  sol 
dier  is  obedience.  I  must  go  where  I'm  or- 
dered." 

"God  grant  that  you  two  may  never  meet." 

"Father!"  It  was  a  cry  of  horror  from  both  the 
lads. 

The  horses  were  waiting  at  the  stiles.  The  Gen 
eral  took  Dan  in  his  arms  and  the  boy  broke  away 
and  ran  down  the  steps,  weeping. 

"Father,"  said  Harry,  with  trembling  lips,  "I 
hope  you  won't  be  too  hard  on  me.  Perhaps  the 
day  will  come  when  you  won't  be  so  ashamed  of 
me.  I  hope  you  and  mother  will  forgive  me.  I 
can't  do  otherwise  than  I  must.  Will  you  shake 
hands  with  me,  father?" 

"Yes,  my  son.     God  be  with  you  both." 

And  then,  as  he  watched  the  boys  ride  side  by 
side  to  the  gate,  he  added: 

"I  could  kill  my  own  brother  with  my  own  hand 
for  this." 

He  saw  them  stop  a  moment  at  the  gate;  saw 
them  clasp  hands  and  turn  opposite  ways — one 
with  his  face  set  for  Tennessee,  the  other  making 
for  the  Ohio.  Dan  waved  his  cap  in  a  last  sad 
good-by.  Harry  rode  over  the  hill  without  turn- 

252 


OFF  TO  THE  WAR 


ing  his  head.  The  General  stood  rigid,  with  his 
hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  staring  across  the 
gray  fields  between  them.  Through  the  window 
came  the  low  sound  of  sobbing. 


253 


XXI 

MELISSA 

OHORTLY  after  dusk,  that  night,  two  or  three 
wagons  moved  quietly  out  of  Lexington,  un 
der  a  little  guard  with  guns  loaded  and  bayonets 
fixed.  Back  at  the  old  Armory — the  home  of  the 
" Rifles" — a  dozen  youngsters  drilled  vigorously 
with  faces  in  a  broad  grin,  as  they  swept  under 
the  motto  of  the  company — "Our  laws  the  com 
mands  of  our  Captain."  They  were  following 
out  those  commands  most  literally.  Never  did 
Lieutenant  Hunt  give  his  orders  more  sonorously 
— he  could  be  heard  for  blocks  away.  Never  did 
young  soldiers  stamp  out  manoeuvres  more  lustily 
— they  made  more  noise  than  a  regiment.  Not  a 
man  carried  a  gun,  though  ringing  orders  to 
"Carry  arms"  and  "Present  arms"  made  the  win 
dows  rattle.  It  was  John  Morgan's  first  ruse. 
While  that  mock-drill  was  going  on,  and  listening 
Unionists  outside  were  laughing  to  think  how 
those  Rifles  were  going  to  be  fooled  next  day,  the 
guns  of  the  company  were  moving  in  those  wag 
ons  toward  Dixie — toward  mocking-bird-haunted 
Bowling  Green,  where  the  underfed,  unclothed, 

254 


MELISSA 

unarmed  body  of  Albert  Sydney  Johnston's  army 
lay,  with  one  half-feathered  wing  stretching  into 
the  Cumberland  hills  and  the  frayed  edge  of  the 
other  touching  the  Ohio. 

Next  morning,  the  Home  Guards  came  gayly 
around  to  the  Armory  to  seize  those  guns,  and  the 
wily  youngsters  left  temporarily  behind  (they,  too, 
fled  for  Dixie,  that  night)  gibed  them  unmerci 
fully;  so  that,  then  and  there,  a  little  interchange 
of  powder-and-ball  civilities  followed;  and  thus, 
on  the  very  first  day,  Daniel  Dean  smelled  the  one 
and  heard  the  other  whistle  right  harmlessly  and 
merrily.  Straightway,  more  guards  were  called 
out;  cannon  were  planted  to  sweep  the  principal 
streets,  and  from  that  hour  the  old  town  was  un 
der  the  rule  ef  a  Northern  or  Southern  sword  for 
the  four  years'  reign  of  the  war. 

Meanwhile,  Chad  Buford  was  giving  a  strange 
journey  to  Dixie.  Whenever  he  dismounted, 
she  would  turn  her  head  toward  the  Bluegrass, 
as  though  it  surely  were  time  they  were  start 
ing  for  home.  When  they  reached  the  end  o£ 
the  turnpike,  she  lifted  her  feet  daintily  along 
the  muddy  road,  and  leaped  pools  of  water  like 
a  cat.  Climbing  the  first  foot-hills,  she  turned  her 
beautiful  head  to  right  and  left,  and  with  pointed1 
ears  snorted  now  and  then  at  the  strange  dark 
woods  on  either  side  and  the  tumbling  water-falls. 
The  red  of  her  wide  nostrils  was  showing  wheru 

255 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

she  reached  the  top  of  the  first  mountain,  and 
from  that  high  point  of  vantage  she  turned  her 
wondering  eyes  over  the  wide  rolling  stretch  that 
waved  homeward,  and  whinnied  with  distinct  un 
easiness  when  Chad  started  her  down  into  the  wil 
derness  beyond.  Distinctly  that  road  was  no  path 
for  a  lady  to  tread,  but  Dixie  was  to  know  it  better 
in  the  coming  war. 

Within  ten  miles  of  the  Turners',  Chad  met  the 
first  man  that  he  knew — Hence  Sturgill  from 
Kingdom  Come.  He  was  driving  a  wagon. 

"Howdye,  Hence!"    said  Chad,  reining  in. 

"Whoa!"  said  Hence,  pulling  in  and  staring  at 
Chad's  horse  and  at  Chad  from  hat  to  spur. 

"Don't  you  know  me,  Hence  ?" 

"Well,  God— I— may— die,  if  it  ain't  Chad! 
How  *.:r  ye,  Chad  ?  Coin'  up  to  ole  Joel's  ?" 

"Yes.     How  are  things  on  Kingdom  Ccme?" 

Hence  spat  on  the  ground  and  raised  one  hand 
high  over  his  head: 

"God — I — may — die,  if  thar  hain't  hell  to  pay 
on  Kingdom  Come.  You  better  keep  off  o'  King 
dom  Come,"  and  then  he  stopped  with  an  expres 
sion  of  quick  alarm,  looked  around  him  into  the 
bushes  and  dropped  his  voice  to  a  whisper: 

"But  I  hain't  sayin'  a  word — rickollect  now — 
not  a  word!" 

Chad  laughed  aloud.  "What's  the  matter  with 
you,  Hence  ?" 

256 


MELISSA 

Hence  put  one  finger  on  one  side  of  his  nose — 
still  speaking  in  a  low  tone: 

"Whut'd  I  say,  Chad?  D'l  say  one  word?'* 
He  gathered  up  his  reins.  "You  rickollect  Jake 
and  Jerry  Dillon?"  Chad  nodded.  "You  know 
Jerry  was  al'ays  a-runnin'  over  Jake  'cause  Jake 
didn't  have  good  sense.  Jake  was  drapped  when 
he  was  a  baby.  Well,  Jerry  struck  Jake  over  the 
head  with  a  fence-rail  'bout  two  months  ago,  an* 
when  Jake  come  to,  he  had  just  as  good  sense  as 
anybody,  and  now  he  hates  Jerry  like  pizen,  an' 
Jerry's  half  afeard  of  him.  An'  they  do  say  as 
how  them  two  brothers  air  a-goin'-  Again 

Hence  stopped  abruptly  and  clucked  to  his  team. 
"But  I  ain't  a-sayin'  a  word,  now,  mind  ye — not 
a  word!" 

Chad  rode  on,  amused,  and  thinking  that  Hence 
had  gone  daft,  but  he  was  to  learn  better.  A  reign 
of  forty  years'  terror  was  starting  in  those  hills. 

Not  a  soul  was  in  sight  when  he  reached  the 
top  of  the  hill  from  which  he  could  see  the  Tur 
ner  home  below — about  the  house  or  the  orchard 
or  in  the  fields.  No  one  answered  his  halloo  at 
the  Turner  gate,  though  Chad  was  sure  that  he 
saw  a  woman's  figure  flit  past  the  door.  It  was 
a  full  minute  before  Mother  Turner  cautiously 
thrust  her  head  outside  the  door  and  peered  at  him. 

"Why,  Aunt  Betsey,"  called  Chad,  "don't  you 
know  me  ? " 

257 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Melissa  sprang  out 
the  door  with  a  welcoming  cry,  and  ran  to  him, 
Mother  Turner  following  with  a  broad  smile  on 
her  kind  old  face.  Chad  felt  the  tears  almost 
come — these  were  friends  indeed.  How  tall  Me 
lissa  had  grown,  and  how  lovely  she  was,  with  her 
tangled  hair  and  flashing  eyes  and  delicately  mod 
elled  face.  She  went  with  him  to  the  stable  to  help 
him  put  up  his  horse,  blushing  when  he  looked  at 
her  and  talking  very  little,  while  the  old  mother, 
from  the  fence,  followed  him  with  her  dim  eyes. 
At  once  Chad  began  to  ply  both  with  questions— 
where  was  Uncle  Joel  and  the  boys  and  the  school 
master  ?  And,  straightway,  Chad  felt  a  reticence 
in  both — a  curious  reticence  even  with  him.  On 
each  side  of  the  fireplace,  on  each  side  of  the  door, 
and  on  each  side  of  the  window,  he  saw  narrow 
blocks  fixed  to  the  logs.  One  was  turned  horizon 
tal,  and  through  the  hole  under  it  Chad  saw  day 
light — portholes  they  were.  At  the  door  were 
oaken  blocks  as  catches  for  a  piece  of  upright 
wood  nearby,  which  was  plainly  used  to  bar  the 
door.  The  cabin  was  a  fortress.  By  degrees  the 
story  came  out.  The  neighborhood  was  in  a  tur 
moil  of  bloodshed  and  terror.  Tom  and  Dolph 
had  gone  off  to  the  war — Rebels.  Old  Joel  had 
'been  called  to  the  door  one  night,  a  few  weeks  since, 
and  had  been  shot  down  without  warning.  They 
had  fought  all  night.  Melissa  herself  had  handled 


MELISSA 

a  rifle  at  one  of  the  portholes.  Rube  was  out  in 
the  woods  now,  with  Jack  guarding  and  taking 
care  of  his  wounded  father.  A  Home  Guard  had 
been  organized,  and  Daws  Dillon  was  captain. 
They  were  driving  out  of  the  mountains  every 
man  who  owned  a  negro,  for  nearly  every  man 
who  owned  a  negro  had  taken,  or  was  forced  to 
take,  the  Rebel  side.  The  Dillons  were  all  Yan 
kees,  except  Jerry,  who  had  gone  off  with  Tom; 
and  the  giant  brothers,  Rebel  Jerry  and  Yankee 
Jake — as  both  were  already  known — had  sworn  to 
kill  each  other  on  sight.  Bushwhacking  had  al 
ready  begun.  When  Chad  asked  about  the  school 
master,  the  old  woman's  face  grew  stern,  and 
Melissa's  lip  curled  with  scorn. 

"Yankee!"  The  girl  spat  the  word  out  with 
such  vindictive  bitterness  that  Chad's  face  turned 
slowly  scarlet,  while  the  girl's  keen  eyes  pierced 
him  like  a  knife,  and  narrowed  as,  with  pale  face 
and  heaving  breast,  she  rose  suddenly  from  her 
chair  and  faced  him — amazed,  bewildered,  burn 
ing  with  sudden  hatred.  "And  you're  another!'* 
The  girl's  voice  was  like  a  hiss. 

"Why,  'Lissy!"  cried  the  old  mother,  startled, 
horrified. 

"Look  at  him!"  said  the  girl.  The  old  woman 
looked;  her  face  grew  hard  and  frightened,  and 
she  rose  feebly,  moving  toward  the  girl  as  though 
for  protection  against  him.  Chad's  very  heart 

2.59 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

seemed  suddenly  to  turn  to  water.  He  had  been 
dreading  the  moment  to  come  when  he  must  tell. 
He  knew  it  would  be  hard,  but  he  was  not  looking 
for  this. 

"You  better  git  away!"  quavered  the  old  worn™ 
an,  "afore  Joel  and  Rube  come  in." 

"Hush!"  said  the  girl,  sharply,  her  hands 
clinched  like  claws,  her  whole  body  stiff,  like  a 
tigress  ready  to  attack,  or  awaiting  attack. 

"Mebbe  he  come  hyeh  to  find  out  whar  they  air 
—don't  tell  him!" 

"Lissy!"    said  Chad,  brokenly. 

"Then  whut  did  you  come  fer?" 

"To  tell  you  good-by,  I  came  to  see  all  of  you, 
Lissy." 

The  girl  laughed  scornfully,  and  Chad  knew  he 
was  helpless.  He  could  not  explain,  and  they  could 
not  understand — nobody  had  understood. 

"Aunt  Betsey,"  he  said,  "you  took  Jack  and  me 
in,  and  you  took  care  of  me  just  as  though  I  had 
been  your  own  child.  You  know  I'd  give  my  life 
for  you  or  Uncle  Joel,  or  any  one  of  the  boys" — 
his  voice  grew  a  little  stern — "and  you  know  it, 
too,  Lissy — 

"You're  makin*  things  wuss,"  interrupted  the 
girl,  stridently,  "an*  now  you're  goin'  to  do  all 
you  can  to  kill  us.  I  reckon  you  can  see  that  door. 
Why  don't  you  go  over  to  the  Dillons  ? "  she 
panted.  "They're  friends  o*  your'n.  An*  don't 

260 


MELISSA 

let  Uncle  Joel  or  Rube  ketch  you  anywhar  round 
hyeh ! " 

"I'm  not  afraid  to  see  Uncle  Joel  or  Rube, 
Lissy." 

"You  must  git  away,  Chad,"  quavered  the  old 
woman.  "They  mought  hurt  ye!" 

"I'm  sorry  not  to  see  Jack.  He's  the  only 
friend  I  have  now." 

"Why,  Jack  would  snarl  at  ye,"  said  the  girl, 
bitterly.  "He  hates  a  Yankee."  She  pointed 
again  with  her  ringer.  "I  reckon  you  can  see  that 
door." 

They  followed  him,  Melissa  going  on  the  porch 
and  the  old  woman  standing  in  the  doorway.  On 
one  side  of  the  walk  Chad  saw  a  rose-bush  that  he 
had  brought  from  the  Bluegrass  for  Melissa.  It 
was  dying.  He  took  one  step  toward  it,  his  foot 
sinking  in  the  soft  earth  where  the  girl  had  evi 
dently  been  working  around  it,  and  broke  off  the 
one  green  leaf  that  was  left. 

"Here,  Lissy!  You'll  be  sorry  you  were  so 
hard  on  me.  I'd  never  get  over  it  if  I  didn't 
think  you  would.  Keep  this,  won't  you,  and  let's 
be  friends,  not  enemies." 

He  held  it  out,  and  the  girl  angrily  struck  the 
rose-leaf  from  his  hand  to  her  feet. 

Chad  rode  away  at  a  walk.  Two  hundred 
yards  below,  where  the  hill  rose,  the  road  was 
hock-deep  with  sand,  and  Dixie's  feet  were  as 

261 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

noiseless  as  a  cat's.  A  few  yards  beyond  a  ravine 
on  the  right,  a  stone  rolled  from  the  bushes  into 
the  road.  Instinctively  Chad  drew  rein,  and  Dixie 
stood  motionless.  A  moment  later,  a  crouching 
figure,  with  a  long  squirrel  rifle,  slipped  out  of  the 
bushes  and  started  noiselessly  across  the  ravine. 
Chad's  pistol  flashed. 

"Stop!" 

The  figure  crouched  more,  and  turned  a  terror- 
stricken  face — Daws  Dillon's. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?  Well,  drop  that  gun  and 
come  down  here." 

The  Dillon  boy  rose,  leaving  his  gun  on  the 
ground,  and  came  down,  trembling. 

"What' re  you  doin'  sneaking  around  in  the 
brush?" 

"Nothin'!"  The  Dillon  had  to  make  two  ef 
forts  before  he  could  speak  at  all.  "Nothin',  jes* 
a-huntin'!" 

"Huntin'I"  repeated  Chad.  He  lowered  his 
pistol  and  looked  at  the  sorry  figure  silently. 

"I  know  what  you  were  huntin',  you  rattle 
snake!  I  understand  you  are  captain  of  the  Home 
Guard.  I  reckon  you  don't  know  that  nobody  has 
to  go  into  this  war.  That  a  man  has  the  right  to 
stay  peaceably  at  home,  and  nobody  has  the  right 
to  bother  him.  If  you  don't  know  it,  I  tell  you 
now.  I  believe  you  had  something  to  do  with 
shooting  Uncle  Joel." 

262 


MELISSA 

The  Dillon  shook  his  head,  and  fumbled  with 
his  hands. 

"If  I  knew  it,  I'd  kill  you  where  you  stand, 
now.  But  I've  got  one  word  to  say  to  you,  you 
hell-pup.  I  hate  to  think  it,  but  you  and  I  are  on 
the  same  side — that  is,  if  you  have  any  side.  But 
in  spite  of  that,  if  I  hear  of  any  harm  happening 
to  Aunt  Betsey,  or  Melissa,  or  Uncle  Joel,  or 
Rube,  while  they  are  all  peaceably  at  home,  I'm 
goin'  to  hold  you  and  Tad  responsible,  whether 
you  are  or  not,  and  I'll  kill  you" — he  raised  one 
hand  to  make  the  Almighty  a  witness  to  his  oath 

"I'll  kill  you,  if  I  have  to  follow  you  both  to 
hell  for  doin'  it.  Now,  you  take  keer  of  'em! 
Turn  'round!" 

The  Dillon  hesitated. 

'Turn!"  Chad  cried,  savagely,  raising  his  pis 
tol.  "Go  back  to  that  gun,  an'  if  you  turn  your 
head  I'll  shoot  you  where  you're  sneakin'  aroun' 
to  shoot  Rube  or  Uncle  Joel — in  the  back,  you 
cowardly  feist.  Pick  up  that  gun!  Now,  let  her 
off!  See  if  you  can  hit  that  beech-tree  in  front  of 
you.  Just  imagine  that  it's  me." 

The  rifle  cracked  and  Chad  laughed. 

"Well,  you  ain't  much  of  a  shot.  I  reckon  you 
must  have  chills  and  fever.  Now,  come  back  here. 
Give  me  your  powder-horn.  You'll  find  it  on  top 
of  the  hill  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  road. 
Now,  you  trot — home!" 

263 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

The  Dillon  stared. 

"Double-quick!"  shouted  Chad.  "You  ought 
to  know  what  that  means  if  you  are  a  soldier — a 
soldier!"  he  repeated,  contemptuously. 

The  Dillon  disappeared  on  a  run. 

Chad  rode  all  that  night.  At  dawn  he  reached 
the  foot-hills,  and  by  noon  he  drew  up  at  the  road 
which  turned  to  Camp  Dick  Robinson.  He  sat 
there  a  long  time  thinking,  and  then  pushed  on 
toward  Lexington.  If  he  could,  he  would  keep 
from  fighting  on  Kentucky  soil. 

Next  morning  he  was  going  at  an  easy  "run 
ning-walk"  along  the  old  Maysville  road  toward 
the  Ohio.  Within  three  miles  of  Major  Buford's, 
he  leaped  the  fence  and  stiuck  across  the  fields 
that  he  might  go  around  and  avoid  the  risk  of  a 
painful  chance  meeting  with  his  old  friend  or  any 
of  the  Deans. 

What  a  land  of  peace  and  plenty  it  was — the 
woodlands,  meadows,  pasture  lands!  Fat  cattle 
raised  their  noses  from  the  thick  grass  and  looked 
with  mild  inquiry  at  him.  Sheep  ran  bleating 
toward  him,  as  though  he  were  come  to  salt  them. 
A  rabbit  leaped  from  a  thorn-bush  and  whisked 
his  white  flag  into  safety  in  a  hemp-field.  Squirrels 
barked  in  the  big  oaks,  and  a  covey  of  young  quail 
fluttered  up  from  a  fence  corner  and  sailed  bravely 
away.  'Possum  signs  were  plentiful,  and  on  the 
edge  of  the  creek  he  saw  a  coon  solemnly  search- 

264 


MELISSA 

ing  under  a  rock  with  one  paw  for  crawfish. 
Every  now  and  then  Dixie  would  turn  her  head 
impatiently  to  the  left,  for  she  knew  where  home 
was.  The  Deans'  house  was  just  over  the  hill; 
he  would  have  but  the  ride  to  the  top  to  see  it  and, 
perhaps,  Margaret.  There  was  no  need.  As  he  sat 
looking  up  the  hill,  Margaret  herself  rode  slowly 
over  it,  and  down,  through  the  sunlight  slanting 
athwart  the  dreaming  woods,  straight  toward  him. 
Chad  sat  still.  Above  him  the  road  curved,  and 
she  could  not  see  him  until  she  turned  the  little 
thicket  just  before  him.  Her  pony  was  more 
startled  than  was  she.  A  little  leap  of  color  to 
her  face  alone  showed  her  surprise. 

"Did  you  get  my  note  ?" 

"I  did.    You  got  my  mother's  message  ?" 

"I  did."  Chad  paused.  "That  is  why  I  am 
passing  around  you." 

The  girl  said  nothing. 

"But  I'm  glad  I  came  so  near.  I  wanted  to  see 
you  once  more.  I  wish  I  could  make  you  under 
stand.  But  nobody  understands.  I  hardly  un 
derstand  myself.  But  please  try  to  believe  that 
what  I  say  is  true.  I'm  just  back  from  the 
mountains,  and  listen,  Margaret — "  He  halted 
a  moment  to  steady  his  voice.  "The  Turners 
down  there  took  me  in  when  I  was  a  ragged 
outcast.  They  clothed  me,  fed  me,  educated 
me.  The  Major  took  me  when  I  was  little 

265 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

more;  and  he  fed  me,  clothed  me,  educated  me. 
The  Turners  scorned  me — Melissa  told  me  to  go 
herd  with  the  Dillons.  The  Major  all  but  turned 
me  from  his  door.  Your  father  was  bitter  toward 
me,  thinking  that  I  had  helped  turn  Harry  to  the 
Union  cause.  But  let  me  tell  you!  If  the  Tur 
ners  died,  believing  me  a  traitor;  if  Lissy  died  with 
a  curse  on  her  lips  for  me;  if  the  Major  died  with 
out,  as  he  believed,  ever  having  polluted  his  lips 
again  with  my  name;  if  Harry  were  brought  back 
here  dead,  and  your  father  died,  believing  that 
his  blood  was  on  my  hands;  and  if  I  lost  you  and 
your  love,  and  you  died,  believing  the  same  thing 
—I  must  still  go.  Oh,  Margaret,  I  can't  under 
stand — I  have  ceased  to  reason.  I  only  know  I 
must  go!" 

The  girl  in  the  mountains  had  let  her  rage  and 
scorn  loose  like  a  storm,  but  the  gentlewoman  only 
grew  more  calm.  Every  vestige  of  color  left  her, 
but  her  eyes  never  for  a  moment  wavered  from 
his  face.  Her  voice  was  quiet  and  even  and  pas 
sionless: 

"Then,  why  don't  you  go  ?" 

The  lash  of  an  overseer's  whip  across  his  face 
could  not  have  made  his  soul  so  bleed.  Even  then 
he  did  not  lose  himself. 

"I  am  in  your  way,"  he  said,  quietly.  And 
backing  Dixie  from  the  road,  and  without  bend- 

266 


MELISSA 

ing  his  head  or  lowering  his  eyes,  he  waited,  hat 
in  hand,  for  Margaret  to  pass. 

All  that  day  Chad  rode,  and,  next  morning, 
Dixie  climbed  the  Union  bank  of  the  Ohio  and 
trotted  into  the  recruiting  camp  of  the  Fourth 
Ohio  Cavalry.  The  first  man  Chad  saw  was 
Harry  Dean — grave,  sombre,  taciturn,  though  he 
smiled  and  thrust  out  his  hand  eagerly.  Chad's 
eyes  dropped  to  the  sergeant's  stripes  on  Harry's 
sleeves,  and  again  Harry  smiled. 

"  You'll  have  'em  yourself  in  a  week.  These 
fellows  ride  like  a  lot  of  meal-bags  over  here. 
Here's  my  captain,"  he  added,  in  a  lower  voice. 

A  pompous  officer  rode  slowly  up.  He  pulled 
in  his  horse  when  he  saw  Chad. 

"You  want  to  join  the  army?" 

"Yes,"  said  Chad. 

"All  right.     That's  a  fine  horse  you've  got.'* 

Chad  said  nothing. 

"What's  his  name?" 

"Her  name  is  Dixie." 

The  captain  stared.  Some  soldiers  behind 
laughed  in  a  smothered  fashion,  sobering  their 
faces  quickly  when  the  captain  turned  upon  them, 
furious. 

"Well,  change  her  name!" 

"I'll  not  change  her  name,"  said  Chad,  quietly. 
267 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"What!"  shouted  the  officer.  "How  dare 
you — "  Chad's  eyes  looked  ominous. 

"Don't  you  give  any  orders  to  me — not  yet. 
You  haven't  the  right;  and  when  you  have,  you 
can  save  your  breath  by  not  giving  that  one.  This 
horse  comes  from  Kentucky,  and  so  do  I;  her 
name  will  stay  Dixie  as  long  as  I  straddle  her,  and 
I  propose  to  straddle  her  until  one  of  us  dies,  or" 
— he  smiled  and  nodded  across  the  river — "some 
body  over  there  gets  her  who  won't  object  to  her 
name  as  much  as  you  do." 

The  astonished  captain's  lips  opened,  but  a  quiet 
voice  behind  interrupted  him: 

"Never  mind,  Captain."  Chad  turned  and  saw 
a  short,  thick-set  man  with  a  stubbly  brown  beard, 
whose  eyes  were  twinkling,  though  his  face  was 
grave.  "A  boy  who  wants  to  fight  for  the  Union, 
and  insists  on  calling  his  horse  Dixie,  must  be  all 
right.  Come  with  me,  my  lad." 

As  Chad  followed,  he  heard  the  man  saluted 
as  Colonel  Grant,  but  he  paid  no  heed.  Few  peo 
ple  at  that  time  did  pay  heed  to  the  name  of 
Ulysses  Grant. 


268 


XXII 

MORGAN'S  MEN 

13OOTS  and  saddles  at  daybreak! 
"^^  Over  the  border,  in  Dixie,  two  videttes  in 
gray  trot  briskly  from  out  a  leafy  woodland,  side 
by  side,  and  looking  with  keen  eyes  right  and  left; 
one,  erect,  boyish,  bronzed;  the  other,  slouching, 
bearded,  huge — the  boy,  Daniel  Dean;  the  man, 
Rebel  Jerry  Dillon,  one  of  the  giant  twins. 

Fifty  yards  behind  them  emerges  a  single  picket; 
after  him  come  three  more  videttes,  the  same  dis 
tance  apart.  Fifty  yards  behind  the  last  rides  "the 
advance" — a  guard  of  twenty-five  picked  men. 
No  commission  among  "Morgan's  Men"  was 
more  eagerly  sought  than  a  place  on  that  guard 
of  hourly  risk  and  honor.  Behind  it  trot  still  three 
more  videttes,  at  intervals  of  one  hundred  yards, 
and  just  that  interval  behind  the  last  of  these  ride 
Morgan's  Men,  the  flower  of  Kentucky's  youth, 
in  columns  of  fours — Colonel  Hunt's  regiment  in 
advance,  the  colors  borne  by  Renfrew  the  Silent 
in  a  brilliant  Zouave  jacket  studded  with  buttons 
of  red  coral.  In  the  rear  rumble  two  Parrot  guns, 
afFectionately  christened  the  "Bull  Pups." 

269 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Skirting  the  next  woodland  ran  a  cross-road. 
Down  one  way  gallops  Dan,  and  down  the  other 
lumbers  Rebel  Jerry,  each  two  hundred  yards.  A 
cry  rings  from  vidette  to  vidette  behind  them  and 
back  to  the  guard.  Two  horsemen  spur  from  the 
"advance"  and  take  the  places  of  the  last  two 
videttes,  while  the  videttes  in  front  take  and  keep 
the  original  formation  until  the  column  passes 
that  cross-road,  when  Dean  and  Dillon  gallop  up 
to  their  old  places  in  the  extreme  front  again.  Far 
in  front,  and  on  both  flanks,  are  scouting  parties, 
miles  away. 

This  was  the  way  Morgan  marched. 

Yankees  ahead!  Not  many,  to  be  sure — no 
more  numerous  than  two  or  three  to  one;  so  back 
fall  the  videttes  and  forward  charges  that  advance 
guard  like  a  thunderbolt,  not  troubling  the  column 
behind.  Wild  yells,  a  clattering  of  hoofs,  the 
crack  of  pistol-shots,  a  wild  flight,  a  merry  chase, 
a  few  riderless  horses  gathered  in  from  the  fleeing 
Yankees,  and  the  incident  is  over. 

Ten  miles  more,  and  many  hostile  bayonets 
gleam  ahead.  A  serious  fight,  this,  perhaps — so 
back  drops  the  advance,  this  time  as  a  reserve;  up 
gallops  the  column  into  single  rank  and  dismounts, 
while  the  flank  companies,  deploying  as  skirmish 
ers,  cover  the  whole  front,  one  man  out  of  each 
set  of  fours  and  the  corporals  holding  the  horses 
in  the  rear.  The  "Bull  Pups"  bark  and  the  Rebel 

270 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

yell  rings  as  the  line — the  files  two  yards  apart — 
"a  long  flexible  line  curving  forward  at  each  ex 
tremity" — slips  forward  at  a  half  run.  This  time 
the  Yankees  charge. 

From  every  point  of  that  curving  line  pours  a 
merciless  fire,  and  the  charging  men  in  blue  recoil 
—all  but  one.  (War  is  full  of  grim  humor.) 
On  comes  one  lone  Yankee,  hatless,  red-headed, 
pulling  on  his  reins  with  might  and  main,  his  horse 
beyond  control,  and  not  one  of  the  enemy  shoots 
as  he  sweeps  helplessly  into  their  line.  A  huge 
rebel  grabs  his  bridle-rein. 

"I  don't  know  whether  to  kill  you  now,"  he 
says,  with  pretended  ferocity,  "or  wait  till  the 
fight  is  over." 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  kill  me  at  all!*'  shouts 
the  Yankee.  "I'm  a  dissipated  character,  and  not 
prepared  to  die." 

Shots  from  the  right  flank  and  rear,  and  that 
line  is  thrown  about  like  a  rope.  But  the  main 
body  of  the  Yankees  is  to  the  left. 

"Left  face!  Double-quick!"  is  the  ringing 
order,  and,  by  magic,  the  line  concentrates  in  a 
solid  phalanx  and  sweeps  forward. 

This  was  the  way  Morgan  fought. 

And  thus,  marching  and  fighting,  he  went  his 
triumphant  way  into  the  land  of  the  enemy,  with 
out  sabres,  without  artillery,  without  even  the 
"Bull  Pups,"  sometimes — fighting  infantry,  cav- 

271 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

airy,  artillery  with  only  muzzle-loading  rifles,  pis 
tols,  and  shotguns;  scattering  Home  Guards  like 
turkeys;  destroying  railroads  and  bridges;  taking 
towns  and  burning  Government  stores,  and  encom 
passed,  usually,  with  forces  treble  his  own. 

This  was  what  Morgan  did  on  a  raid,  was  what 
he  had  done,  what  he  was  starting  out  now  to  do 
again. 

Darkness  threatens,  and  the  column  halts  to 
bivouac  for  the  night  on  the  very  spot  where, 
nearly  a  year  before,  Morgan's  Men  first  joined 
Johnston's  army,  which,  like  a  great,  lean,  hungry 
hawk,  guarded  the  Southern  border. 

Daniel  Dean  was  a  war-worn  veteran  now.  He 
could  ride  t.venty  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four;  he 
could  sleep  in  his  saddle  or  anywhere  but  on 
picket  duty,  and  there  was  no  trick  of  the  trade  in 
camp,  or  on  the  march,  that  was  not  at  his  finger's 
end. 

Fire  first!  Nobody  had  a  match,  the  leaves 
were  wet  and  the  twigs  sobby,  but  by  some  magic 
a  tiny  spark  glows  under  some  shadowy  figure, 
bites  at  the  twigs,  snaps  at  the  branches,  and  wraps 
a  log  in  flames. 

Water  next!  A  tin  cup  rattles  in  a  bucket,  and 
another  shadowy  figure  steals  off  into  the  dark 
ness,  with  an  instinct  as  unerring  as  the  skill  of  a 
water-witch  with  a  willow  wand.  The  Yankees 
chose  open  fields  for  camps,  but  your  rebel  took 

272 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

to  the  woods.  Each  man  and  his  chum  picked  a 
tree  for  a  home,  hung  up  canteens  and  spread 
blankets  at  the  foot  of  it.  Supper — Heavens, 
what  luck — fresh  beef!  One  man  broils  it  on 
coals,  pinning  pieces  of  fat  to  it  to  make  gravy; 
another  roasts  it  on  a  forked  stick,  for  Morgan 
carried  no  cooking  utensils  on  a  raid. 

Here,  one  man  made  up  bread  in  an  oilcloth 
(and  every  Morgan's  man  had  one  soon  after  they 
were  issued  to  the  Federals);  another  worked  up 
corn-meal  into  dough  in  the  scooped-out  half  of  a 
pumpkin;  one  baked  bread  on  a  flat  rock,  another 
on  a  board,  while  a  third  had  twisted  his  dough 
around  his  ram-rod;  if  it  were  spring-rime,  a  fourth 
might  be  fitting  his  into  a  cornshuck  to  roast  in 
ashes.  All  this  Dan  Dean  could  do. 

The  roaring  fire  thickens  the  gloom  of  the 
woods  where  the  lonely  pickets  stand.  Pipes  are 
out  now.  An  oracle  outlines  the  general  cam 
paign  of  the  war  as  it  will  be  and  as  it  should 
have  been.  A  long-winded,  innocent  braggart 
tells  of  his  personal  prowess  that  day.  A  little 
group  is  guying  the  new  recruit.  A  wag  shaves 
a  bearded  comrade  on  one  side  of  his  face,  pock 
ets  his  razor  and  refuses  to  shave  the  other  side. 
A  poet,  with  a  bandaged  eye,  and  hair  like  a  wind 
blown  hay-stack,  recites  "I  am  dying,  Egypt — 
dying,"  and  then  a  pure,  clear,  tenor  voice  starts 
through  the  forest-aisles,  and  there  is  sudden  si- 

273 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

lence.  Every  man  knows  that  voice,  and  loves  the 
boy  who  owns  it — little  Tom  Morgan,  Dan's 
brother-in-arms,  the  General's  seventeen-year-old 
brother — and  there  he  stands  leaning  against  a 
tree,  full  in  the  light  of  the  fire,  a  handsome,  gal 
lant  figure — a  song  like  a  seraph's  pouring  from 
his  lips.  One  bearded  soldier  is  gazing  at  him 
with  curious  intentness,  and  when  the  song  ceases, 
lies  down  with  a  suddenly  troubled  face.  He  has 
seen  the  "death-look"  in  the  boy's  eyes — that 
prophetic  death-look  in  which  he  has  unshaken 
faith.  The  night  deepens,  figures  roll  up  in  blan 
kets,  quiet  comes,  and  Dan  lies  wide  awake  and 
deep  in  memories,  and  looking  back  on  those  early 
helpless  days  of  the  war  with  a  tolerant  smile. 

He  was  a  war-worn  veteran  now,  but  how  viv 
idly  he  could  recall  that  first  night  in  the  camp  of 
a  big  army,  in  the  very  woods  where  he  now  lay 
• — dusk  settling  over  the  Green  River  country, 
which  Morgan's  Men  grew  to  love  so  well;  a 
mocking-bird  singing  a  farewell  song  from  the 
top  of  a  stunted  oak  to  the  dead  summer  and  the 
dying  day;  Morgan  seated  on  a  cracker-box  in 
front  of  his  tent,  contemplatively  chewing  one  end 
of  his  mustache;  Lieutenant  Hunt  swinging  from 
his  horse,  smiling  grimly. 

"It  would  make  a  horse  laugh — a  Yankee  cav 
alry  horse,  anyhow — to  see  this  army." 

Hunt  had  been  over  the  camp  that  first  after- 
274 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

noon  on  a  personal  tour  of  investigation.  There 
were  not  a  thousand  Springfield  and  Enfield  rifles 
at  that  time  in  Johnston's  army.  Half  of  the  sol 
diers  were  armed  with  shotguns  and  squirrel  rifles, 
and  the  greater  part  of  the  other  half  with  flint 
lock  muskets.  But  nearly  every  man,  thinking  he 
was  in  for  a  rough-and-tumble  fight,  had  a  bowie- 
knife  and  a  revolver  swung  to  his  belt. 

"Those  Arkansas  and  Texas  fellows  have  got 
knives  that  would  make  a  Malay's  blood  run 
cold." 

''Well,  they'll  do  to  hew  firewood  and  cut 
meat,"  laughed  Morgan. 

The  troops  were  not  only  badly  armed.  On 
his  tour,  Hunt  had  seen  men  making  blankets  of  a 
piece  of  old  carpet,  lined  on  one  side  with  a  piece 
of  cotton  cloth;  men  wearing  ox-hide  buskins,  or 
complicated  wrapping  of  rags,  for  shoes;  orderly 
sergeants  making  out  reports  on  shingles;  surgeons 
using  a  twisted  handkerchief  instead  of  a  tourni 
quet.  There  was  a  total  lack  of  medicine,  and 
camp  diseases  were  already  breaking  out — measles, 
typhoid  fever,  pneumonia,  bowel  troubles — each 
fatal,  it  seemed,  in  time  of  war. 

"General  Johnston  has  asked  Richmond  for  a 
stand  of  thirty  thousand  arms,"  Morgan  had 
mused,  and  Hunt  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"Mr.  Davis  can  only  spare  a  thousand." 

"That's  lucky,"  said  Hunt,  grimly. 

275 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

And  then  the  military  organization  of  that 
army,  so  characteristic  of  the  Southerner!  An 
officer  who  wanted  to  be  more  than  a  colonel,  and 
couldn't  be  a  brigadier,  would  have  a  "legion" — 
a  hybrid  unit  between  a  regiment  and  a  brigade. 
Sometimes  there  was  a  regiment  whose  roll-call 
was  more  than  two  thousand  men,  so  popular  was 
its  colonel.  Companies  would  often  refuse  to 
designate  themselves  by  letter,  but  by  the  thrilling 
titles  they  had  given  themselves.  How  Morgan 
and  Hunt  had  laughed  over  "The  Yellow  Jack 
ets,"  "The  Dead  Shots,"  "The  Earthquakes," 
'The  Chickasha  Desperadoes,"  and  "The  Hell 
Roarers"!  Regiments  would  bear  the  names  of 
their  commanders — a  singular  instance  of  the 
Southerner's  passion  for  individuality,  as  a  man, 
a  company,  a  regiment,  or  a  brigade.  And  there 
was  little  or  no  discipline,  as  the  word  is  under 
stood  among  the  military  elect,  and  with  no  army 
that  the  world  has  ever  seen,  Richard  Hunt  al 
ways  claimed,  was  there  so  little  need  of  it.  For 
Southern  soldiers,  he  argued,  were,  from  the  start, 
obedient,  zealous,  and  tolerably  patient,  from  good 
sense  and  a  strong  sense  of  duty.  They  were  born 
fighters;  a  spirit  of  emulation  induced  them  to 
learn  the  drill;  pride  and  patriotism  kept  them 
true  and  patient  to  the  last,  but  they  could  not  be 
made,  by  punishment  or  the  fear  of  it,  into  ma 
chines.  They  read  their  chance  of  success,  not  in 

276 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

opposing  numbers,  but  in  the  character  and  repu 
tation  of  their  commanders,  who,  in  turn,  believed, 
as  a  rule,  that  "the  unthinking  automaton,  formed 
by  routine  and  punishment,  could  no  more  stand 
before  the  high-strung  young  soldier  with  brains 
and  good  blood,  and  some  practice  and  knowledge 
of  warfare,  than  a  tree  could  resist  a  stroke  of 
lightning."  So  that  with  Southern  soldiers  disci 
pline  came  to  mean  "the  pride  which  made  soldiers 
learn  their  duties  rather  than  incur  disgrace;  the 
subordination  that  came  from  self-respect  and  re 
spect  for  the  man  whom  they  thought  worthy  to 
command  them." 

Boots  and  saddles  again  at  daybreak!  By  noon 
the  column  reached  Green  River,  over  the  Ken 
tucky  line,  where  Morgan,  even  on  his  way  down 
to  join  Johnston,  had  begun  the  operations  which 
were  to  make  him  famous.  No  picket  duty  that 
infantry  could  do  as  well,  for  Morgan's  cavalry! 
He  wanted  it  kept  out  on  the  front  or  the  flanks 
of  an  army,  and  as  close  as  possible  upon  the 
enemy.  Right  away,  there  had  been  thrilling 
times  for  Dan  in  the  Green  River  country — set 
ting  out  at  dark,  chasing  countrymen  in  Federal 
pay  or  sympathy,  prowling  all  night  around  and 
among  pickets  and  outposts;  entrapping  the  un 
wary;  taking  a  position  on  the  line  of  retreat  at 
daybreak,  and  turning  leisurely  back  to  camp 
with  prisoners  and  information.  How  memories 

277 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

thronged!  At  this  very  turn  of  the  road,  Dan 
remembered,  they  had  their  first  brush  with  the 
enemy.  No  plan  of  battle  had  been  adopted, 
other  than  to  hide  on  both  sides  of  the  road  and 
send  their  horses  to  the  rear. 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  charge  'em,"  said  Georgie 
Forbes,  Chad's  old  enemy.  Dan  saw  that  his  lip 
trembled,  and,  a  moment  later,  Georgie,  mutter 
ing  something,  disappeared. 

The  Yankees  had  come  on,  and,  discovering 
them,  halted.  Morgan  himself  stepped  out  in  the 
road  and  shot  the  officer  riding  at  the  head  of  the 
column.  His  men  fell  back  without  returning  the 
fire,  deployed  and  opened  up.  Dan  recognized 
the  very  tree  behind  which  he  had  stood,  and  again 
he  could  almost  hear  Richard  Hunt  chuckling 
from  behind  another  close  by. 

"We  would  be  in  bad  shape,"  said  Richard 
Hunt,  as  the  bullets  whistled  high  overhead,  "if 
we  were  in  the  tops  of  these  trees  instead  of  be 
hind  them."  There  had  been  no  manoeuvring,  no 
command  given  among  the  Confederates.  Each 
man  fought  his  own  fight.  In  ten  minutes  a  horse- 
holder  ran  up  from  the  rear,  breathless,  and  an 
nounced  that  the  Yankees  were  flanking.  Every 
man  withdrew,  straightway,  after  his  own  fash 
ion,  and  in  his  own  time.  One  man  was  wounded 
and  several  were  shot  through  the  clothes. 

"That  was  like  a  camp-meeting  or  an  elec- 
278 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

tion  row,"  laughed  Morgan,  when  they  were  in 
camp. 

"Or  an  affair  between  Austrian  and  Italian  out 
posts,"  said  Hunt. 

A  chuckle  rose  behind  them.  A  lame  colonel 
was  limping  past. 

"I  got  your  courier,"  he  said. 

"I  sent  no  courier,"  said  Morgan. 

"It  was  Forbes  who  wanted  to  charge  'em," 
said  Dan. 

Again  the  Colonel  chuckled. 

'The  Yankees  ran  when  you  did,"  he  said,  and 
limped,  chuckling,  away. 

But  it  was  great  fun,  those  moonlit  nights,  burn 
ing  bridges  and  chasing  Home  Guards  who  would 
flee  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  sometimes  to  "rally." 
Here  was  a  little  town  through  which  Dan  and 
Richard  Hunt  had  marched  with  nine  prisoners  in 
a  column — taken  by  them  alone — and  a  captured 
United  States  flag,  flying  in  front,  scaring  Con 
federate  sympathizers  and  straggling  soldiers,  as 
Hunt  reported,  horribly.  Dan  chuckled  at  the 
memory,  for  the  prisoners  were  quartered  with 
different  messes,  and,  that  night,  several  bottles  of 
sparkling  Catawba  happened,  by  some  mystery,  to 
be  on  hand.  The  prisoners  were  told  that  this  was 
regularly  issued  by  their  commissaries,  and  there 
upon  they  plead,  with  tears,  to  be  received  into 
the  Confederate  ranks. 

279 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

This  kind  of  service  was  valuable  training  for 
Morgan's  later  work.  Slight  as  it  was,  it  soon 
brought  him  thirty  old,  condemned  artillery-horses 
—Dan  smiled  now  at  the  memory  of  those  ancient 
chargers — which  were  turned  over  to  Morgan  to 
be  nursed  until  they  would  bear  a  mount,  and,  by 
and  by,  it  gained  him  a  colonelcy  and  three  com 
panies,  superbly  mounted  and  equipped,  which, 
as  "Morgan's  Squadron,"  became  known  far  and 
near.  Then  real  service  began. 

In  January,  the  right  wing  of  Johnston's  hun 
gry  hawk  had  been  broken  in  the  Cumberland 
Mountains.  Early  in  February,  Johnston  had 
withdrawn  it  from  Kentucky  before  Buell's  hosts, 
with  its  beak  always  to  the  foe.  By  the  middle 
of  the  month,  Grant  had  won  the  Western  border 
States  to  the  Union,  with  the  capture  of  Fort 
Donelson.  In  April,  the  sun  of  Shiloh  rose  and 
set  on  the  failure  of  the  first  Confederate  aggressive 
campaign  at  the  West;  and  in  that  fight  Dan  saw 
his  first  real  battle,  and  Captain  Hunt  was  wound 
ed.  In  May,  Buell  had  pushed  the  Confederate 
lines  south  and  east  toward  Chattanooga.  To  re 
tain  a  hold  on  the  Mississippi  valley,  the  Confed 
erates  must  make  another  push  for  Kentucky,  and 
it  was  this  great  Southern  need  that  soon  put  John 
Morgan's  name  on  the  lips  of  every  rebel  and 
Yankee  in  the  middle  South.  In  June,  provost- 
marsh^V  were  appointed  in  every  county  in  Ken- 

280 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

tucky;  the  dogs  of  war  began  to  be  turned  loose 
on  the  "secesh  sympathizers"  throughout  the  State; 
and  Jerome  Conners,  overseer,  began  to  render 
sly  service  to  the  Union  cause. 

For  it  was  in  June  that  Mofgan  paid  his  first 
memorable  little  visit  to  the  Blu<  grass,  and  Daniel 
Dean  wrote  his  brother  Harry  tl  e  short  tale  of  the 
raid. 

"We  left  Dixie  with  nine  huftv'red  men,"  the 
letter  ran,  "and  got  back  in  twenty-  four  days  with 
twelve  hundred.  Travelled  over  one  thousand 
miles,  captured  seventeen  towns,  destroyed  all 
Government  supplies  and  arms  in  thvVis,  scattered 
fifteen  hundred  Home  Guards,  and  paccled  twelve 
hundred  regular  troops.  Lost  of  the  ongCnal  nine 
hundred,  in  killed,  wounded,  and  missing,  about 
ninety  men.  How's  that  ?  We  kept  twenty  thou 
sand  men  busy  guarding  Government  posts  or 
chasing  us,  and  we're  going  back  often.  Oh, 
Harry,  I  am  glad  that  you  are  with  Grant." 

But  Harry  was  not  with  Grant — not  now. 
While  Morgan  was  marching  up  from  Dixie  to 
help  Kirby  Smith  in  the  last  great  effort  that  the 
Confederacy  was  about  to  make  to  win  Kentucky — • 
down  from  the  yellow  river  marched  the  Fourth 
Ohio  Cavalry  to  go  into  camp  at  Lexington;  and 
with  it  marched  Chadwick  Buford  and  Harry  Dean, 
who,  too,  were  veterans  now — who,  too,  were  go 
ing  home.  Both  lads  wore  a  second  lieutenant's 

281 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

empty  shoulder-straps,  which  both  yet  meant  to 
fill  with  bars,  but  Chad's  promotion  had  not  come 
as  swiftly  as  Harry  had  predicted;  the  Captain, 
whose  displeasure  he  had  incurred,  prevented  that. 
It  had  come,  in  time,  however,  and  with  one  leap 
he  had  landed,  after  Shiloh,  at  Harry's  side.  In 
the  beginning,  young  Dean  had  wanted  to  go  to 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  as  did  Chad,  but  one 
quiet  word  from  the  taciturn  colonel  with  the 
stubbly  reddish-brown  beard  and  the  perpetual 
black  cigar  kept  both  where  they  were. 

"Though,"  said  Grant  to  Chad,  as  his  eye  ran 
over  beautiful  Dixie  from  tip  of  nose  to  tip  of 
tail,  and  came  back  to  Chad,  slightly  twinkling, 
"I've  a  great  notion  to  put  you  in  the  infantry 
just  to  get  hold  of  that  horse." 

So  it  was  no  queer  turn  of  fate  that  had  soon  sent 
both  the  lads  to  help  hold  Zollicoffer  at  Cumber 
land  Gap,  that  stopped  them  at  Camp  Dick  Rob 
inson  to  join  forces  with  Wolford's  cavalry,  and 
brought  Chad  face  to  face  with  an  old  friend. 
Wolford's  cavalry  was  gathered  from  the  moun 
tains  and  the  hills,  and  when  some  scouts  came  in 
that  afternoon,  Chad,  to  his  great  joy,  saw,  mounted 
on  a  gaunt  sorrel,  none  other  than  his  old  school 
master,  Caleb  Hazel,  who,  after  shaking  hands 
with  both  Harry  and  Chad,  pointed  silently  at  a 
great,  strange  figure  following  him  on  a  splendid 
horse  some  fifty  yards  behind.  The  man  wore  a 

282 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

slouch  hat,  tow  linen  breeches,  home-made  sus 
penders,  a  belt  with  two  pistols,  and  on  his  naked 
heels  were  two  huge  Texan  spurs.  Harry  broke 
into  a  laugh,  and  Chad's  puzzled  face  cleared 
when  the  man  grinned;  it  was  Yankee  Jake  Dil 
lon,  one  of  the  giant  twins.  Chad  looked  at  him 
curiously;  that  blow  on  the  head  that  his  brother, 
Rebel  Jerry,  had  given  him,  had  wrought  a  mir 
acle.  The  lips  no  longer  hung  apart,  but  were  set 
firmly,  and  the  eye  was  almost  keen;  the  face  was 
still  rather  stupid,  but  not  foolish — and  it  was 
still  kind.  Chad  knew  that,  somewhere  in  the 
Confederate  lines,  Rebel  Jerry  was  looking  for 
Jake,  as  Yankee  Jake,  doubtless,  was  now  looking 
for  Jerry,  and  he  began  to  think  that  it  might  be 
well  for  Jerry  if  neither  was  ever  found.  Daws 
Dillon,  so  he  learned  from  Caleb  Hazel  and  Jake, 
was  already  making  his  name  a  watchword  of  ter 
ror  along  the  border  of  Virginia  and  Tennessee, 
and  was  prowling,  like  a  wolf,  now  and  then, 
along  the  edge  of  the  Bluegrass.  Old  Joel  Tur 
ner  had  died  of  his  wound,  Rube  had  gone  off  to 
the  war  and  Mother  Turner  and  Melissa  were 
left  at  home,  alone. 

"Daws  fit  fust  on  one  side  and  then  on  t'other," 
said  Jake,  and  then  he  smiled  in  a  way  that  Chad 
understood;  "an*  sence  you  was  down  thar  last, 
Daws  don't  seem  to  hanker  much  atter  meddlin' 
with  the  Turners,  though  the  two  women  did  have 

283 


THE    LITTLE   SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

to  run  over  into  Virginny,  once  in  a  while.  Me- 
lissy,"  he  added,  "was  a-goin*  to  marry  Dave 
Hilton,  so  folks  said;  and  he  reckoned  they'd  al 
ready  hitched  most  likely,  sence  Chad  thar— 

A  flash  from  Chad's  eyes  stopped  him,  and 
Chad,  seeing  Harry's  puzzled  face,  turned  away. 
He  was  glad  that  Melissa  was  going  to  marry — 
yes,  he  was  glad;  and  how  he  did  pray  that  she 
might  be  happy! 

Fighting  Zollicoffer,  only  a  few  days  later, 
Chad  and  Harry  had  their  baptism  of  fire,  and 
strange  battle  orders  they  heard,  that  made  them 
smile  even  in  the  thick  of  the  fight. 

"Huddle  up  thar!"  "Scatter  out,  now!"  "Form 
a  line  of  fight!"  "Wait  till  you  see  the  shine  of 
their  eyes!" 

"I  see  'em!"  shouted  a  private,  and  "bang" 
went  his  gun.  That  was  the  way  the  fight  opened. 
Chad  saw  Harry's  eyes  blazing  like  stars  from  his 
pale  face,  which  looked  pained  and  half  sick,  and 
Chad  understood — the  lads  were  fighting  their 
own  people,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it.  A  voice 
bellowed  from  the  rear,  and  a  man  in  a  red  cap 
loomed  in  the  smoke-mist  ahead: 

"Now,  now!     Git  up  and  git,  boys!" 

That  was  the  order  for  the  charge,  and  the  blue 
line  went  forward.  Chad  never  forgot  that  first 
battle-field  when  he  saw  it  a  few  hours  later  strewn 
with  dead  and  wounded,  the  dead  lying,  as  they 

284 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

dropped,  in  every  conceivable  position,  features 
stark,  limbs  rigid;  one  man  with  a  half-smoked 
cigar  on  his  breast;  the  faces  of  so  many  beard 
less;  some  frowning,  some  as  if  asleep  and  dream 
ing;  and  the  wounded — some  talking  pitifully, 
some  in  delirium,  some  courteous,  patient,  anxious 
to  save  trouble,  others  morose,  sullen,  stolid,  in 
dependent;  never  forgot  it,  even  the  terrible  night 
after  Shiloh,  when  he  searched  heaps  of  wounded 
and  slain  for  Caleb  Hazel,  who  lay  all  through 
the  night  wounded  almost  to  death. 

Later,  the  Fourth  Ohio  followed  Johnston,  as 
he  gave  way  before  Buell,  and  many  times  did 
they  skirmish  and  fight  with  ubiquitous  Morgan's 
Men.  Several  times  Harry  and  Dan  sent  each 
other  messages  to  say  that  each  was  still  unhurt, 
and  both  were  in  constant  horror  of  some  day 
coming  face  to  face.  Once,  indeed,  Harry,  chas 
ing  a  rebel  and  firing  at  him,  saw  him  lurch  in  his 
saddle,  and  Chad,  coming  up,  found  the  lad  on 
the  ground,  crying  over  a  canteen  which  the  rebel 
had  dropped.  It  was  marked  with  the  initials 
D.  D.,  the  strap  was  cut  by  the  bullet  Harry  had 
fired,  and  not  for  a  week  of  agonizing  torture  did 
Harry  learn  that  the  canteen,  though  Dan's,  had 
been  carried  that  day  by  another  man. 

It  was  on  these  scouts  and  skirmishes  that  the 
four — Harry  and  Chad,  and  Caleb  Hazel  and 
Yankee  Jake  Dillon,  whose  dog-like  devotion  to 

285 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Chad  soon  became  a  regimental  joke — became 
known,  not  only  among  their  own  men,  but  among 
their  enemies,  as  the  shrewdest  and  most  daring 
scouts  in  the  Federal  service.  Every  Morgan's 
man  came  to  know  the  name  of  Chad  Buford;  but 
it  was  not  until  Shiloh  that  Chad  got  his  shoul 
der-straps,  leading  a  charge  under  the  very  eye 
of  General  Grant.  After  Shiloh,  the  Fourth  Ohio 
went  back  to  its  old  quarters  across  the  river,  and 
no  sooner  were  Chad  and  Harry  there  than  Ken 
tucky  was  put  under  the  Department  of  the  Ohio; 
and  so  it  was  also  no  queer  turn  of  fate  that  now 
they  were  on  their  way  to  new  head-quarters  in 
Lexington. 

Straight  along  the  turnpike  that  ran  between 
the  Dean  and  the  Buford  farms,  the  Fourth  Ohio 
went  in  a  cloud  of  thick  dust  that  rose  and  settled 
like  a  gray  choking  mist  on  the  seared  fields. 
Side  by  side  rode  Harry  and  Chad,  and  neither 
spoke  when,  on  the  left,  the  white  columns  of  the 
Dean  house  came  into  viewT,  and,  on  the  right,  the 
red  brick  of  Chad's  old  home  showed  through  the 
dusty  leaves;  not  even  when  both  saw  on  the  Dean 
porch  the  figures  of  two  women  who,  standing 
motionless,  were  looking  at  them.  Harry's  shoul 
ders  drooped,  and  he  stared  stonily  ahead,  while 
Chad  turned  his  head  quickly.  The  front  door 
and  shutters  of  the  Buford  house  were  closed,  and 
there  were  few  signs  of  life  about  the  place.  Only 

286 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

at  the  gate  was  the  slouching  figure  of  Jerome 
Conners,  the  overseer,  who,  waving  his  hat  at  the 
column,  recognized  Chad,  as  he  rode  by,  and 
spoke  to  him,  Chad  thought,  with  a  covert  sneer. 
Farther  ahead,  and  on  the  farthest  boundary  of 
the  Buford  farm,  was  a  Federal  fort,  now  de 
serted,  and  the  beautiful  woodland  that  had  once 
stood  in  perfect  beauty  around  it  was  sadly  rav 
aged  and  nearly  gone,  as  was  the  Dean  woodland 
across  the  road.  It  was  plain  that  some  people 
were  paying  the  Yankee  piper  for  the  death- 
dance  in  which  a  mighty  nation  was  shaking  its 
feet. 

On  they  went,  past  the  old  college,  down  Broad 
way,  wheeling  at  Second  Street — Harry  going  on 
with  the  regiment  to  camp  on  the  other  edge  of 
the  town;  Chad  reporting  with  his  colonel  at  Gen 
eral  Ward's  head-quarters,  a  columned  brick  house 
on  one  corner  of  the  college  campus,  and  straight 
across  from  the  Hunt  home,  where  he  had  first 
danced  with  Margaret  Dean. 

That  night  the  two  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  Ash 
land  woods,  looking  up  at  the  stars,  the  ripened 
bluegrass — a  yellow,  moonlit  sea — around  them 
and  the  woods  dark  and  still  behind  them.  Both 
smoked  and  were  silent,  but  each  knew  that  to  the 
other  his  thoughts  were  known;  for  both  had  been 
on  the  same  errand  that  day,  and  the  miserable 
tale  of  the  last  ten  months  both  had  learned. 

287 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

Trouble  had  soon  begun  for  the  ones  who  were 
dear  to  them,  when  both  left  for  the  war.  At 
once  General  Anderson  had  promised  immunity 
from  arrest  to  every  peaceable  citizen  in  the  State, 
but  at  once  the  shiftless,  the  prowling,  the  lawless, 
gathered  to  the  Home  Guards  for  self-protection, 
to  mask  deviltry  and  to  wreak  vengeance  for  pri 
vate  wrongs.  At  once  mischief  began.  Along  the 
Ohio,  men  with  Southern  sympathies  were  clapped 
into  prison.  Citizens  who  had  joined  the  Confed 
erates  were  pronounced  guilty  of  treason,  and 
Breckinridge  was  expelled  from  the  Senate  as  a 
traitor.  Morgan's  great  raid  in  June,  '61,  spread 
consternation  through  the  land  and,  straightway, 
every  district  and  county  were  at  the  mercy  of  a 
petty  local  provost.  No  man  of  Southern  sympa 
thies  could  stand  for  office.  Courts  in  session  were 
broken  up  with  the  bayonet.  Civil  authority  was 
overthrown.  Destruction  of  property,  indemnity 
assessments  on  innocent  men,  arrests,  imprison 
ment,  and  murder  became  of  daily  occurrence. 
Ministers  were  jailed  and  lately  prisons  had  even 
been  prepared  for  disloyal  women.  Major  Bu- 
ford,  forced  to  stay  at  home  on  account  of  his 
rheumatism  and  the  serious  illness  of  Miss  Lucy, 
had  been  sent  to  prison  once  and  was  now  under 
arrest  again.  General  Dean,  old  as  he  was,  had 
escaped  and  had  gone  to  Virginia  to  fight  with 

288 


MORGAN'S  MEN 

Lee;    and  Margaret  and  Mrs.  Dean,  with  a  few 
servants,  were  out  on  the  farm  alone. 

But  neither  spoke  of  the  worst  that  both  feared 
was  yet  to  come — and  "Taps"  sounded  soft  and 
clear  on  the  night  air. 


xxin 

CHAD    CAPTURES    AN    OLD    FRIEND 

"IY/TEANWHILE  Morgan  was  coming  on— 
led  by  the  two  videttes  in  gray — Daniel 
Dean  and  Rebel  Jerry  Dillon — coming  on  to  meet 
Kirby  Smith  in  Lexington  after  that  general  had 
led  the  Bluegrass  into  the  Confederate  fold.  They 
were  taking  short  cuts  through  the  hills  now,  and 
Rebel  Jerry  was  guide,  for  he  had  joined  Morgan 
for  that  purpose.  Jerry  had  long  been  notorious 
along  the  border.  He  never  gave  quarter  on  his  ex 
peditions  for  personal  vengeance,  and  it  was  said 
that  not  even  he  knew  how  many  men  he  had  killed. 
Every  Morgan's  man  had  heard  of  him,  and  was 
anxious  to  see  him;  and  see  him  they  did,  though 
they  never  heard  him  open  his  lips  except  in  an 
swer  to  a  question.  To  Dan  he  seemed  to  take  a 
strange  fancy  right  away,  but  he  was  as  voiceless 
as  the  grave,  except  for  an  occasional  oath,  when 
bush-whackers  of  Daws  Dillon's  ilk  would  pop  at 
the  advance  guard — sometimes  from  a  rock  di 
rectly  overhead,  for  chase  was  useless.  It  took  a 
roundabout  climb  of  one  hundred  yards  to  get  to 
the  top  of  that  rock,  so  there  was  nothing  for 
videttes  and  guards  to  do  but  pop  back,  which 

290 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

they  did  to  no  purpose.  On  the  third  day,  how 
ever,  after  a  skirmish  in  which  Dan  had  charged 
with  a  little  more  dare-deviltry  than  usual,  the  big 
Dillon  ripped  out  an  oath  of  protest.  An  hour 
later  he  spoke  again: 

"I  got  a  brother  on  t'other  side." 

Dan  started.  "Why,  so  have  I,"  he  said. 
"What's  your  brother  with  ?" 

"Wolford's  cavalry." 

"That's  curious.  So  was  mine — for  a  while. 
He's  with  Grant  now."  The  boy  turned  his  head 
away  suddenly. 

"I  might  meet  him,  if  he  were  with  Wolford 
now,"  he  said,  half  to  himself,  but  Jerry  heard 
him  and  smiled  viciously. 

"Well,  that's  what  I'm  goin*  with  you  fellers 
fer — to  meet  mine." 

"What!"  said  Dan,  puzzled. 

"We've  been  lookin'  fer  each  other  sence  the 
war  broke  out.  I  reckon  he  went  on  t'other  side 
to  keep  me  from  killin'  him." 

Dan  shrank  away  from  the  giant  with  horror; 
but  next  day  the  mountaineer  saved  the  boy's  life 
in  a  fight  in  which  Dan's  chum — gallant  little  Tom 
Morgan — lost  his;  and  that  night,  as  Dan  lay 
sleepless  and  crying  in  his  blanket,  Jerry  Dillon 
<:ame  in  from  guard-duty  and  lay  down  by  him. 

"I'm  goin'  to  take  keer  o'  you." 

"I  don't  need  you,"  said  Dan,  gruffly,  and 
291 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

Rebel  Jerry  grunted,  turned  over  on  his  side  and 
went  to  sleep.  Night  and  day  thereafter  he  was 
by  the  boy's  side. 

A  thrill  ran  through  the  entire  command  when 
the  column  struck  the  first  Bluegrass  turnpike,  and 
a  cheer  rang  from  front  to  rear.  Near  Midway, 
a  little  Bluegrass  town  some  fifteen  miles  from 
Lexington,  a  halt  was  called,  and  another  deafen 
ing  cheer  arose  in  the  extreme  rear  and  came  for 
ward  like  a  rushing  wind,  as  a  coal-black  horse 
galloped  the  length  of  the  column — its  rider,  hat 
in  hand,  bowing  with  a  proud  smile  to  the  flatter 
ing  storm — for  the  idolatry  of  the  man  and  his 
men  was  mutual — with  the  erect  grace  of  an  Ind 
ian,  the  air  of  a  courtier,  and  the  bearing  of  a 
soldier  in  every  line  of  the  six  feet  and  more  of 
his  tireless  frame.  No  man  who  ever  saw  John 
Morgan  on  horseback  but  had  the  picture  stamped 
forever  on  his  brain,  as  no  man  who  ever  saw  that 
coal-black  horse  ever  forgot  Black  Bess.  Be 
hind  him  came  his  staff,  and  behind  them  came 
a  wizened  little  man,  whose  nickname  was  "Light 
ning" — telegraph  operator  for  Morgan's  Men. 
There  was  need  of  Lightning  now,  so  Morgan 
sent  him  on  into  town  with  Dan  and  Jerry  Dillon, 
while  he  and  Richard  Hunt  followed  leisurely. 

The  three  troopers  found  the  station  operator 
seated  on  the  platform — pipe  in  mouth,  and  en 
joying  himself  hugely.  He  looked  lazily  at  them. 

2Q2 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

"Call  up  Lexington,"  said  Lightning,  sharply. 

"Go  to  hell!"  said  the  operator,  and  then  he 
nearly  toppled  from  his  chair.  Lightning,  with  a 
vicious  gesture,  had  swung  a  pistol  on  him. 

"  Here — here ! "  he  gasped,  "  what'd  you  mean  ? " 

"Call  up  Lexington,"  repeated  Lightning.  The 
operator  seated  himself. 

"What  do  you  want  in  Lexington  ?"  he  growled. 

"Ask  the  time  of  day?"  The  operator  stared, 
but  the  instrument  clicked. 

"What's  your  name  ?"  asked  Lightning. 

"Woolums." 

"Well,  Woolums,  you're  a  'plug.'  I  wanted  to 
see  how  you  handled  the  key.  Yes,  Woolums, 
you're  a  plug." 

Then  Lighting  seated  himself,  and  Woolums' 
mouth  flew  open — Lightning  copied  his  style  with 
such  exactness.  Again  the  instrument  clicked  and 
Lightning  listened,  smiling: 

"Will  there  be  any  danger  coming  to  Mid 
way?"  asked  a  railroad  conductor  in  Lexington. 
Lightning  answered,  grinning: 

"None.  Come  right  on.  No  sign  of  rebels 
here."  Again  a  click  from  Lexington. 

"General  Ward  orders  General  Finnell  of 
Frankfort  to  move  his  forces.  General  Ward  will 
move  toward  Georgetown,  to  which  Morgan 
with  eighteen  hundred  men  is  marching." 

Lightning    caught   his    breath — this   was    Mor- 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

gan's   force   and   his   intention   exactly.     He   an 
swered : 

"Morgan  with  upward  of  two  thousand  men 
has  taken  the  road  to  Frankfort.  This  is  relia 
ble."  Ten  minutes  later,  Lightning  chuckled. 

"Ward  orders  Finnell  to  recall  his  regiment  to 
Frankfort." 

Half  an  hour  later  another  idea  struck  Light 
ning.  He  clicked  as  though  telegraphing  from 
Frankfort: 

"Our  pickets  just  driven  in.  Great  excitement. 
Force  of  enemy  must  be  two  thousand." 

Then  Lightning  laughed.  "I've  fooled  'em," 
said  Lightning. 

There  was  turmoil  in  Lexington.  The  streets 
thundered  with  the  tramp  of  cavalry  going  to 
catch  Morgan.  Daylight  came  and  nothing  was 
done — nothing  known.  The  afternoon  waned, 
and  still  Ward  fretted  at  head-quarters,  while  his 
impatient  staff  sat  on  the  piazza,  talking,  speculat 
ing,  wondering  where  the  wily  raider  was.  Lean 
ing  on  the  campus-fence  near  by  were  Chadwick 
Buford  and  Harry  Dean. 

It  had  been  a  sad  day  for  those  two.  The  mu 
tual  tolerance  that  prevailed  among  their  friends 
in  the  beginning  of  the  war  had  given  way  to  in 
tense  bitterness  now.  There  was  no  thrill  for 
them  in  the  flags  fluttering  a  welcome  to  them 
from  the  windows  of  loyalists,  for  under  those 

294 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

flags  old  friends  passed  them  in  the  street  with  no 
sign  of  recognition,  but  a  sullen,  averted  face,  or 
a  stare  of  open  contempt.  Elizabeth  Morgan 
had  met  them,  and  turned  her  head  when  Harry 
raised  his  cap,  though  Chad  saw  tears  spring  to 
her  eyes  as  she  passed.  Sad  as  it  was  for  him, 
Chad  knew  what  the  silent  torture  in  Harry's 
heart  must  be,  for  Harry  could  not  bring  himself, 
that  day,  even  to  visit  his  own  home.  And  now 
Morgan  was  coming,  and  they  might  soon  be  in  a 
death-fight,  Harry  with  his  own  blood-brother  and 
both  with  boyhood  friends. 

"God  grant  that  you  two  may  never  meet!" 
That  cry  from  General  Dean  was  beating  cease 
lessly  through  Harry's  brain  now,  and  he  brought 
one  hand  down  on  the  fence,  hardly  noticing  the 
drop  of  blood  that  oozed  from  the  force  of  the 
blow. 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  could  get  away  from  here!" 
"I  shall  the  first  chance  that  comes,"  said  Chad, 
and  he  lifted  his  head  sharply,  staring  down  the 
street.  A  phaeton  was  coming  slowly  toward 
them  and  in  it  were  a  negro  servant  and  a  girl  in 
white.  Harry  was  leaning  over  the  fence  with 
his  back  toward  the  street,  and  Chad,  the  blood 
rushing  to  his  face,  looked  in  silence,  for  the 
negro  was  Snowball  and  the  girl  was  Margaret. 
He  saw  her  start  and  flush  when  she  saw  him,  her 
hands  giving  a  little  convulsive  clutch  at  the  reins; 

295 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

but  she  came  on,  looking  straight  ahead.  Chad's 
hand  went  unconsciously  to  his  cap,  and  when 
Harry  rose,  puzzled  to  see  him  bareheaded,  the 
phaeton  stopped,  and  there  was  a  half-broken  cry: 

"Harry!" 

Cap  still  in  hand,  Chad  strode  away  as  the 
brother,  with  an  answering  cry,  sprang  toward  her. 


When  he  came  back,  an  hour  later,  at  dusk, 
Harry  was  seated  on  the  portico,  and  the  long 
silence  between  them  was  broken  at  last. 

"She — they  oughtn't  to  come  to  town  at  a  time 
like  this,"  said  Chad,  roughly. 

"I  told  her  that,"  said  Harry,  "but  it  was  use 
less.  She  will  come  and  go  just  as  she  pleases." 

Harry  rose  and  leaned  for  a  moment  against 
one  of  the  big  pillars,  and  then  he  turned  impul 
sively,  and  put  one  hand  lightly  on  the  other's 
shoulder. 

"I'm  sorry,  old  man,"  he  said,  gently. 

A  pair  of  heels  clicked  suddenly  together  on 
the  grass  before  them,  and  an  orderly  stood  at 
salute. 

"General  Ward's  compliments,  and  will  Lieu 
tenant  Buford  and  Lieutenant  Dean  report  to  him 
at  once  ? " 

The  two  exchanged  a  swift  glance,  and  the  faces 
of  both  grew  grave  with  sudden  apprehension. 

296 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

Inside,  the  General  looked  worried,  and  his 
manner  was  rather  sharp. 

"  Do  you  know  General  Dean  ?"  he  asked,  look 
ing  at  Harry. 

"He  is  my  father,  sir." 

The  General  wheeled  in  his  chair. 

"What!"  he  exclaimed.  "Well — um — I  sup 
pose  one  of  you  will  be  enough.  You  can  go." 

When  the  door  closed  behind  Harry,  he  looked 
at  Chad. 

'There  are  two  rebels  at  General  Dean's  house 
to-night,"  he  said,  quietly.  "One  of  them,  I  am 
told — why,  he  must  be  that  boy's  brother,"  and 
again  the  General  mused;  then  he  added,  sharply: 

'Take  six  good  men  out  there  right  away  and 
capture  them.  And  watch  out  for  Daws  Dillon 
and  his  band  of  cut-throats.  I  am  told  he  is  in 
this  region.  I've  sent  a  company  after  him.  But 
you  capture  the  two  at  General  Dean's." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Chad,  turning  quickly,  but  the 
General  had  seen  the  lad's  face  grow  pale. 

"It  is  very  strange  down  here — they  may  be 
his  best  friends,"  he  thought,  and,  being  a  kind- 
hearted  man,  he  reached  out  his  hand  toward 
a  bell  to  summon  Chad  back,  and  drew  it  in 
again. 

"I  cannot  help  that;  but  that  boy  must  have 
good  stuff  in  him." 

Harry  was  waiting  for  him  outside.  He  knew 
297 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

that  Dan  would  go  home  if  it  was  possible,  and 
what  Chad's  mission  must  be. 

"Don't  hurt  him,  Chad." 

"You  don't  have  to  ask  that/*  answered  Chad, 
sadly. 

So  Chad's  old  enemy,  Daws  Dillon,  was  abroad. 
There  was  a  big  man  with  the  boy  at  the  Deans', 
General  Ward  had  said,  but  Chad  little  guessed 
that  it  was  another  old  acquaintance,  Rebel  Jerry 
Dillon,  who,  at  that  hour,  was  having  his  supper 
brought  out  to  the  stable  to  him,  saying  that  he 
would  sleep  there,  take  care  of  the  horses,  and 
keep  on  the  look-out  for  Yankees.  Jerome  Con- 
ners's  hand  must  be  in  this,  Chad  thought,  for  he 
never  for  a  moment  doubted  that  the  overseer  had 
brought  the  news  to  General  Ward.  He  was 
playing  a  fine  game  of  loyalty  to  both  sides,  that 
overseer,  and  Chad  grimly  made  up  h'is  mind  that, 
from  one  side  or  the  other,  his  day  would  come. 
And  this  was  the  fortune  of  war — to  be  trotting, 
at  the  head  of  six  men,  on  such  a  mission,  along 
a  road  that,  at  every  turn,  on  every  little  hill,  and 
almost  in  every  fence-corner,  was  stored  with 
happy  memories  for  him;  to  force  entrance  as  an 
enemy  under  a  roof  that  had  showered  courtesy 
and  kindness  down  on  him  like  rain,  that  in  all 
the  world  was  most  sacred  to  him;  to  bring  death 
to  an  old  playmate,  the  brother  of  the  woman 

298 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

whom  he  loved,  or  capture,  which  might  mean  a 
worse  death  in  a  loathsome  prison.  He  thought 
of  that  dawn  when  he  drove  home  after  the  dance 
at  the  Hunts'  with  the  old  Major  asleep  at  his 
side  and  his  heart  almost  bursting  with  high  hope 
and  happiness,  and  he  ran  his  hand  over  his  eyes 
to  brush  the  memory  away.  He  must  think  only 
of  his  duty  now,  and  that  duty  was  plain. 

Across  the  fields  they  went  in  a  noiseless  walk, 
and  leaving  their  horses  in  the  woods,  under  the 
care  of  one  soldier,  slipped  into  the  yard.  Two 
men  were  posted  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  one  was 
stationed  at  each  end  of  the  long  porch  to  com 
mand  the  windows  on  either  side,  and,  with  a  ser 
geant  at  his  elbow,  Chad  climbed  the  long  steps 
noiselessly  and  knocked  at  the  front  door.  In  a 
moment  it  was  thrown  open  by  a  woman,  and  the 
light  fell  full  in  Chad's  face. 

"You — you — you!"  said  a  voice  that  shook 
with  mingled  terror  and  contempt,  and  Margaret 
shrank  back,  step  by  step.  Hearing  her,  Mrs. 
Dean  hurried  into  the  hallway.  Her  face  paled 
when  she  saw  the  Federal  uniform  in  her  door 
way,  but  her  chin  rose  haughtily,  and  her  voice 
was  steady  and  most  courteous: 

"What  can  we  do  for  you  ?"  she  asked,  and  she, 
too,  recognized  Chad,  and  her  face  grew  -.tern  as 
she  waited  for  him  to  answer. 

"Mrs.  Dean,"  he  said,  half  choking,  ''word 
299 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

has  come  to  head-quarters  that  two  Confederate 
soldiers  are  spending  the  night  here,  and  I  have 
been  ordered  to  search  the  house  for  them.  My 
men  have  surrounded  it,  but  if  you  will  give  me 
your  word  that  they  are  not  here,  not  a  man  shall 
cross  your  threshold — not  even  myself." 

Without  a  word  Mrs.  Dean  stood  aside. 

"I  am  sorry/'  said  Chad,  motioning  to  the  Ser 
geant  to  follow  him.  As  he  passed  the  door  of 
the  drawing-room,  he  saw,  under  the  lamp,  a  pipe 
with  ashes  strewn  about  its  bowl.  Chad  pointed 
to  it. 

"Spare  me,  Mrs.  Dean."  But  the  two  women 
stood  with  clinched  hands,  silent.  Dan  had 
flashed  into  the  kitchen,  and  was  about  to  leap 
from  the  window  when  he  saw  the  gleam  of  a 
rifle-barrel,  not  ten  feet  away.  He  would  be  pot 
ted  like  a  rat  if  he  sprang  out  there,  and  he  dashed 
noiselessly  up  the  back  stairs,  as  Chad  started  up 
the  front  stairway  toward  the  garret,  where  he  had 
passed  many  a  happy  hour  playing  with  Margaret 
and  Harry  and  the  boy  whom  he  was  after  as  an 
enemy,  now.  The  door  was  open  at  the  first  land 
ing,  and  the  creak  of  the  stairs  under  Dan's  feet, 
heard  plainly,  stopped.  The  Sergeant,  pistol  in 
hand,  started  to  push  past  his  superior. 

"Keep  back,"  said  Chad,  sternly,  and  as  he 
drew  his  pistol,  a  terrified  whisper  rose  from 
below. 

300 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

"Don't,  don't!"  And  then  Dan,  with  hands 
up,  stepped  into  sight. 

"I'll  spare  you,"  he  said,  quietly.  "Not  a  word, 
mother.  They've  got  me.  You  can  tell  him  there 
is  no  one  else  in  the  house,  though." 

Mrs.  Dean's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  a  sob 
broke  from  Margaret. 

"There  is  no  one  else,"  she  said,  and  Chad 
bowed.  "In  the  house,"  she  added,  proudly, 
scorning  the  subterfuge. 

"Search  the  barn,"  said  Chad,  "quick!"  The 
Sergeant  ran  down  the  steps. 

"I  reckon  you  are  a  little  too  late,  my  friend," 
said  Dan.  "Why,  bless  me,  it's  my  old  friend 
Chad — and  a  lieutenant!  I  congratulate  you," 
he  added,  but  he  did  not  offer  to  shake 
hands. 

Chad  had  thought  of  the  barn  too  late.  Snow 
ball  had  seen  the  men  creeping  through  the  yard, 
had  warned  Jerry  Dillon,  and  Jerry  had  slipped 
the  horses  into  the  woodland,  and  had  crept  back 
to  learn  what  was  going  on. 

"I  will  wait  for  you  out  here,"  said  Chad. 
"Take  your  time." 

'Thank  you,"  said  Dan. 

He  came  out  in  a  moment  and  Mrs.  Dean  and 
Margaret  followed  him.  At  a  gesture  from  the 
Sergeant,  a  soldier  stationed  himself  on  each  side 
of  Dan,  and,  as  Chad  turned,  he  took  off  his  cap 

301 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

again.     His  face  was  very  pale  and  his  voice  al 
most  broke: 

"You  will  believe,  Mrs.  Dean,"  he  said,  "that 
this  was  something  I  had  to  do." 

Mrs.  Dean  bent  her  head  slightly. 

"Certainly,  mother,"  said  Dan.  "Don't  blame 
Lieutenant  Chad.  Morgan  will  have  Lexington 
in  a  few  days  and  then  I'll  be  free  again.  Maybe 
I'll  have  Lieutenant  Chad  a  prisoner — no  tell- 
ing!" 

Chad  smiled  faintly,  and  then,  with  a  flush,  he 
spoke  again — warning  Mrs.  Dean,  in  the  kindli 
est  way,  that,  henceforth,  her  house  would  be 
under  suspicion,  and  telling  her  of  the  severe 
measures  that  had  been  inaugurated  against  rebel 
sympathizers. 

"Such  sympathizers  have  to  take  oath  of  alle 
giance  and  give  bonds  to  keep  it." 

"If  they  don't?" 

"Arrest  and  imprisonment." 

"And  if  they  give  the  oath  and  violate  it?" 

"The  penalty  is  death,  Mrs.  Dean." 

"And  if  they  aid  their  friends  ?" 

"They  are  to  be  dealt  with  according  to  mili 
tary  law." 

"Anything  else?" 

"If  loyal  citizens  are  hurt  or  damaged  by  gue 
rillas,  disloyal  citizens  of  the  locality  must  make 
compensation." 

302 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

"Is  it  true  that  a  Confederate  sympathizer  will 
be  shot  down  if  on  the  streets  of  Lexington  ? " 

"There  was  such  an  order,  Mrs.  Dean." 

"And  if  a  loyal  citizen  is  killed  by  one  of  these 
so-called  guerillas,  for  whose  acts  nobody  is  re 
sponsible,  prisoners  of  war  are  to  be  shot  in  re 
taliation  ?" 

"Mother!"  cried  Margaret. 

"No,  Mrs.  Dean — not  prisoners  of  war — gue 
rillas." 

"And  when  will  you  begin  war  on  women  ?" 

"Never,  I  hope."  His  hesitancy  brought  a 
scorn  into  the  searching  eyes  of  his  pale  questioner 
that  Chad  could  not  face,  and  without  daring  even 
to  look  at  Margaret  he  turned  away. 

Such  retaliatory  measures  made  startling  news 
to  Dan.  He  grew  very  grave  while  he  listened, 
but  as  he  followed  Chad  he  chatted  and  laughed 
and  joked  with  his  captors.  Morgan  would  have 
Lexington  in  three  days.  He  was  really  glad  to 
get  a  chance  to  fill  his  belly  with  Yankee  grub.  It 
hadn't  been  full  more  than  two  or  three  times  in 
six  months. 

All  the  time  he  was  watching  for  Jerry  Dillon, 
who,  he  knew,  would  not  leave  him  if  there  was 
the  least  chance  of  getting  him  out  of  the  Yan 
kee's  clutches.  He  did  not  have  to  wait  long. 
Two  men  had  gone  to  get  the  horses,  and  as  Dan 
stepped  through  the  yard-gate  with  his  captors, 

3°3 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

two  figures  rose  out  of  the  ground.  One  came 
with  head  bent  like  a  battering-ram.  He  heard 
Snowball's  head  strike  a  stomach  on  one  side  of 
him,  and  with  an  astonished  groan  the  man  went 
down.  He  saw  the  man  on  his  other  side  drop 
from  some  crashing  blow,  and  he  saw  Chad  trying 
to  draw  his  pistol.  His  own  fist  shot  out,  catch 
ing  Chad  on  the  point  of  the  chin.  At  the  same 
instant  there  was  a  shot  and  the  Sergeant  dropped. 

"Come  on,  boy!"  said  a  hoarse  voice,  and  then 
he  was  speeding  away  after  the  gigantic  figure  of 
Jerry  Dillon  through  the  thick  darkness,  while  a 
harmless  volley  of  shots  sped  after  them.  At  the 
edge  of  the  woods  they  dropped.  Jerry  Dillon 
had  his  hand  over  his  mouth  to  keep  from  laughing 
aloud. 

'The  hosses  ain't  fer  away,"  he  said.     "Oh, 
Lawd!" 

"Did  you  kill  him?" 

"I  reckon  not,"  whispered  Jerry.  "I  shot  him 
on  the  wrong  side.  I'm  al'ays  a-fergettin*  which 
side  a  man's  heart's  on." 

"What  became  of  Snowball  ?" 

"He  run  jes'  as  soon  as  he  butted  the  feller  on 
his  right.  He  said  he'd  git  one,  but  I  didn't  know 
what  he  was  doin*  when  I  seed  him  start  like  a 
sheep.  Listen!" 

There  was  a  tumult  at  the  house — moving 
lights,  excited  cries,  and  a  great  hurrying.  Black 

3°4 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

Rufus  was  the  first  to  appear  with  a  lantern,  and 
when  he  held  it  high  as  the  fence,  Chad  saw  Mar 
garet  in  the  light,  her  hands  clinched  and  her  eyes 
burning. 

"Have  you  killed  him  ?"  she  asked,  quietly  but 
fiercely.  "You  nearly  did  once  before.  Have 
you  succeeded  this  time  ?"  Then  she  saw  the  Ser 
geant  writhing  on  the  ground,  his  right  forearm 
hugging  his  breast,  and  her  hands  relaxed  and  her 
face  changed. 

"Did  Dan  do  that?     Did  Dan  do  that?" 

"Dan  was  unarmed,"  said  Chad,  quietly. 

"Mother,"  called  the  girl,  as  though  she  had 
not  heard  him,  "send  someone  to  help.  Bring 
him  to  the  house,"  she  added,  turning.  As  no 
movement  was  made,  she  turned  again. 

"Bring  him  up  to  the  house,"  she  said,  imperi 
ously,  and  when  the  hesitating  soldiers  stooped  to 
pick  up  the  wounded  man,  she  saw  the  streak  of 
blood  running  down  Chad's  chin  and  she  stared 
open-eyed.  She  made  one  step  toward  him,  and 
then  she  shrank  back  out  of  the  light. 

"Oh!  '  she  said.  "Are  you  wounded,  too? 
Oh!" 

"No!"  said  Chad,  grimly.  "Dan  didn't  do 
that" — pointing  to  the  Sergeant — "he  did  this — • 
with  his  fist.  It's  the  second  time  Dan  has  done 
this.  Easy,  men,"  he  added,  with  low-voiced 
authority. 

305 


THE    LITTLE   SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM   COME 

Mrs.  Dean  was  holding  the  door  open. 

"No,"  said  Chad,  quickly.  'That  wicker 
lounge  will  do.  He  will  be  cooler  on  the  porch." 
Then  he  stooped,  and  loosening  the  Sergeant's 
blouse  and  shirt  examined  the  wound. 

"It's  only  through  the  shoulder,  Lieutenant," 
said  the  man,  faintly.  But  it  was  under  the  shoul 
der,  and  Chad  turned. 

"  Jake,"  he  said,  sharply,  "go  back  and  bring  a 
surgeon — and  an  officer  to  relieve  me.  I  think  he 
can  be  moved  in  the  morning,  Mrs.  Dean.  With 
your  permission  I  will  wait  here  until  the  Surgeon 
comes.  Please  don't  disturb  yourself  further  "- 
Margaret  had  appeared  at  the  door,  with  some 
bandages  that  she  and  her  mother  had  been  making 
for  Confederates  and  behind  her  a  servant  followed 
with  towels  and  a  pail  of  water — "I  am  sorry  to 
trespass." 

"Did  the  bullet  pass  through?"  asked  Mrs. 
Dean,  simply. 

"No,  Mrs.  Dean,"  said  Chad. 

Margaret  turned  indoors.  Without  another 
word,  her  mother  knelt  above  the  wounded  man, 
cut  the  shirt  away,  staunched  the  trickling  blood, 
and  deftly  bound  the  wound  with  lint  and  bandages, 
while  Chad  stood,  helplessly  watching  her. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said  again,  when  she  rose, 
"sorry "  ' 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Dean,  quietly.     "If 
306 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

you  need  anything,  you  will  let  me  know.     I  shall 
be  waiting  inside." 

She  turned  and  a  few  moments  later  Chad  saw 
Margaret's  white  figure  swiftly  climb  the  stairs — 
but  the  light  still  burned  in  the  noiseless  room 
below. 

Meanwhile  Dan  and  Jerry  Dillon  were  far 
across  the  fields  on  their  way  to  rejoin  Morgan. 
When  they  were  ten  miles  away,  Dan,  who  was 
leading,  turned. 

"  Jerry,  that  Lieutenant  was  an  old  friend  of 
mine.  General  Morgan  used  to  say  he  Was  the 
best  scout  in  the  Union  Army.  He  comes  from 
your  part  of  the  country,  and  his  name  is  Chad 
Buford.  Ever  heard  of  him?" 

"I've  knowed  him  sence  he  was  a  chunk  of  a 
boy,  but  I  don't  rickollect  ever  hearin*  his  last 
name  afore.  I  nuver  knowed  he  had  any." 

"Well,  I  heard  him  call  one  of  his  men  Jake — 
and  he  looked  exactly  like  you."  The  giant  pulled 
in  his  horse. 

"I'mgoin'  back." 

"No,  you  aren't,"  said  Dan;  "not  now — it's  too 
late.  That's  why  I  didn't  tell  you  before."  Then 
he  added,  angrily:  "You  are  a  savage  and  you 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  harboring  such 
hatred  against  your  own  blood-brother." 

Dan  was  perhaps  the  only  one  of  Morgan's  Men 

307 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

who  would  have  dared  to  talk  that  way  to  the  man, 
and  Jerry  Dillon  took  it  only  in  sullen  silence. 

A  mile  farther  they  struck  a  pike,  and,  as  they 
swept  along,  a  brilliant  light  glared  into  the  sky 
ahead  of  them,  and  they  pulled  in.  A  house  was 
in  flames  on  the  edge  of  a  woodland,  and  by  its 
light  they  could  see  a  body  of  men  dash  out  of 
the  woods  and  across  the  field  on  horseback,  and 
another  body  dash  after  them  in  pursuit — the  pur 
suers  firing  and  the  pursued  sending  back  defiant 
yells.  Daws  Dillon  was  at  his  work  again,  and  the 
Yankees  were  after  him. 

Long  after  midnight  Chad  reported  the  loss  of 
his  prisoner.  He  was  much  chagrined — for  fail 
ure  was  rare  with  him — and  his  jaw  and  teeth 
ached  from  the  blow  Dan  had  given  him,  but  in 
his  heart  he  was  glad  that  the  boy  had  got  away. 
When  he  went  to  his  tent,  Harry  was  awake  and 
waiting  for  him. 

"It's  I  who  have  escaped,"  he  said;  "escaped 
again.  Four  times  now  we  have  been  in  the  same 
fight.  Somehow  fate  seems  to  be  pointing  always 
one  way — always  one  way.  Why,  night  after 
night,  I  dream  that  either  he  or  I—  Harry's 
voice  trembled— he  stopped  short,  and,  leaning 
forward,  stared  out  the  door  of  his  tent.  A  group 
of  figures  had  halted  in  front  of  the  Colonel's  tent 
opposite,  and  a  voice  called,  sharply: 

308 


CHAD  CAPTURES  AN  OLD  FRIEND 

"Two  prisoners,  sir.  We  captured  'em  with 
Daws  Dillon.  They  are  guerillas,  sir." 

"It's  a  lie,  Colonel,"  said  an  easy  voice,  that 
brought  both  Chad  and  Harry  to  their  feet,  and 
plain  in  the  moonlight  both  saw  Daniel  Dean,  pale 
but  cool,  and  near  him,  Rebel  Jerry  Dillon — be  th 
with  their  hands  bound  behind  them. 


3°9 


XXIV 

A    RACE    BETWEEN    DIXIE    AND    DAWN 

"DUT  the  sun  sank  next  day  from  a  sky  that 
"^  was  aflame  with  rebel  victories.  It  rose  on 
a  day  rosy  with  rebel  hopes,  and  the  prophetic 
coolness  of  autumn  was  in  the  early  morning  air 
when  Margaret  in  her  phaeton  moved  through 
the  front  pasture  on  her  way  to  town — alone. 
She  w«3  in  high  spirits  and  her  head  was  lifted 
proudly.  Dan's  boast  had  come  true.  Kirby 
Smith  had  risen  swiftly  from  Tennessee,  had 
struck  the  Federal  Army  on  the  edge  of  the  Blue- 
grass  the  day  before  and  sent  it  helter-skelter  to 
the  four  winds.  Only  that  morning  she  had  seen 
a  regiment  of  the  hated  Yankees  move  along  the 
turnpike  in  flight  for  the  Ohio.  It  was  the  Fourth 
Ohio  Cavalry,  and  Harry  and  one  whose  name 
never  passed  her  lips  were  among  those  dusty 
cavalrymen;  but  she  was  glad,  and  she  ran  down 
to  the  stile  and,  from  the  fence,  waved  the  Stars 
and  Bars  at  them  as  they  passed — which  was  very 
foolish,  but  which  brought  her  deep  content.  Now 
the  rebels  did  hold  Lexington.  Morgan's  Men 
were  coming  that  day  and  she  was  going  into 

310 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

town  to  see  Dan  and  Colonel  Hunt  and  General 
Morgan  and  be  fearlessly  happy  and  triumphant. 
At  the  Major's  gate,  whom  should  she  see  coming 
out  but  the  dear  old  fellow  himself,  and,  when  he 
got  off  his  horse  and  came  to  her,  she  leaned  for 
ward  and  kissed  him,  because  he  looked  so  thin 
and  pale  from  confinement,  and  because  she  was 
so  glad  to  see  him.  .  Morgan's  Men  were  really 
coming,  that  very  day,  the  Major  said,  and  he 
told  her  much  thrilling  news.  Jackson  had  oblit 
erated  Pope  at  the  second  battle  of  Manassas. 
Eleven  thousand  prisoners  had  been  taken  at 
Harper's  Ferry  and  Lee  had  gone  on  into  Mary 
land  on  the  flank  of  Washington.  Recruits  were 
coming  into  the  Confederacy  by  the  thousands. 
Bragg  had  fifty-five  thousand  men  and  an  impreg 
nable  stronghold  in  front  of  Buell,  who  had  but 
few  men  more — not  enough  to  count  a  minute, 
the  Major  said. 

"Lee  has  routed  'em  out  of  Virginia,"  cried 
the  old  fellow,  "and  Buell  is  doomed.  I  tell  you, 
little  girl,  the  fight  is  almost  won." 

Jerome  Conners  rode  to  the  gate  and  called  to 
the  Major  in  a  tone  that  arrested  the  girl's  atten 
tion.  She  hated  that  man  and  she  had  noted  a 
queer  change  in  his  bearing  since  the  war  began. 
She  looked  for  a  flash  of  anger  from  the  Major, 
but  none  came,  and  she  began  to  wonder  what 
hold  the  overseer  could  have  on  his  old  master. 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

She  drove  on,  puzzled,  wondering,  and  disturbed; 
but  her  cheeks  were  flushed — -the  South  was  going 
to  win,  the  Yankees  were  gone,  and  she  must  get 
to  town  in  time  to  see  the  triumphant  coming  of 
Morgan's  Men.  They  were  coming  in  when  she 
reached  the  Yankee  head-quarters,  which,  she  saw, 
had  changed  flags — thank  God — coming  proudly 
in,  amid  the  waving  of  the  Stars  and  Bars  and 
frenzied  shouts  of  welcome.  Where  were  the 
Bluegrass  Yankees  now  ?  The  Stars  and  Stripes 
that  had  fluttered  from  their  windows  had  been 
drawn  in  and  they  were  keeping  very  quiet,  indeed 
— Oh!  it  was  joy!  There  was  gallant  Morgan 
himself  swinging  from  Black  Bess  to  kiss  his 
mother,  who  stood  waiting  for  him  at  her  gate, 
and  there  was  Colonel  Hunt,  gay,  debonair,  jest 
ing,  shaking  hands  right  and  left,  and  crowding 
the  streets,  Morgan's  Men — the  proudest  blood  in 
the  land — every  gallant  trooper  getting  his  wel 
come  from  the  lips  and  arms  of  mother,  sister, 
sweetheart,  or  cousin  of  farthest  degree.  But 
where  was  Dan  ?  She  had  heard  nothing  of  him 
since  the  night  he  had  escaped  capture,  and  while 
she  looked  right  and  left  for  him  to  dash  toward 
her  and  swing  from  his  horse,  she  heard  her  name 
called,  and  turning  she  saw  Richard  Hunt  at  the 
wheel  of  her  phaeton.  He  waved  his  hand  to 
ward  the  happy  reunions  going  on  around  them. 
"The  enforced  brotherhood,  Miss  Margaret,"" 
312 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

he  said,  his  eyes  flashing,  "I  belong  to  that,  you 
know." 

For  once  the  subtle  Colonel  made  a  mistake. 
Perhaps  the  girl  in  her  trembling  happiness  and 
under  the  excitement  of  the  moment  might  have 
welcomed  him,  as  she  was  waiting  to  welcome 
Dan,  but  she  drew  back  now. 

"Oh!   no,  Colonel — not  on  that  ground." 

Her  eyes  danced,  she  flushed  curiously,  as  she 
held  out  her  hand,  and  the  Colonel's  brave  heart 
quickened.  Straightway  he  began  to  wonder — 
but  a  quick  shadow  in  Margaret's  face  checked 
him. 

"But  where's  Dan?  Where  is  Dan?"  she  re 
peated,  impatiently. 

Richard  Hunt  looked  puzzled.  He  had  just 
joined  his  command  and  something  must  have 
gone  wrong  with  Dan.  So  he  lied  swiftly. 

"Dan  is  out  on  a  scout.  I  don't  think  he  has 
got  back  yet.  I'll  find  out." 

Margaret  watched  him  ride  to  where  Morgan 
stood  with  his  mother  in  the  rnidst  of  a  joyous 
group  of  neighbors  and  friends,  and,  a  moment 
later,  the  two  officers  came  toward  her  on  foot. 

"Don't  worry,  Miss  Margaret,"  said  Morgan, 
with  a  smile.  "The  Yankees  have  got  Dan  and 
have  taken  him  away  as  prisoner — but  don't 
worry,  we'll  get  him  exchanged  in  a  week.  I'll 
give  three  brigadier-generals  for  him." 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF  KINGDOM   COME 

Tears  came  to  the  girl's  eyes,  but  she  smiled 
through  them  bravely. 

"I  must  go  back  and  tell  mother,"  she  said, 
brokenly.  "I  hoped— 

''Don't  worry,  little  girl,"  said  Morgan  again. 
"I'll  have  him  I  if  have  to  capture  the  whole  State 
of  Ohio." 

Again  Margaret  smiled,  but  her  heart  was 
heavy,  and  Richard  Hunt  was  unhappy.  He  hung 
around  her  phaeton  all  the  while  she  was  in  town. 
He  went  home  with  her,  cheering  her  on  the  way 
and  telling  her  of  the  Confederate  triumph  that 
was  at  hand.  He  comforted  Mrs.  Dean  over 
Dan's  capture,  and  he  rode  back  to  town  slowly, 
with  his  hands  on  his  saddle-bow — wondering 
again.  Perhaps  Margaret  had  gotten  over  her 
feeling  for  that  mountain  boy — that  Yankee — 
and  there  Richard  Hunt  checked  his  own  thoughts, 
for  that  mountain  boy,  he  had  discovered,  was  a 
brave  and  chivalrous  enemy,  and  to  such,  his  own 
high  chivalry  gave  salute  always. 

He  was  very  thoughtful  when  he  reached  camp. 
He  had  an  unusual  desire  to  be  alone,  and  that 
night,  he  looked  long  at  the  stars,  thinking  of  the 
girl  whom  he  had  known  since  her  babyhood- 
knowing  that  he  would  never  think  of  her  except 
as  a  woman  again. 

So  the  Confederates  waited  now  in  the  Union 
hour  of  darkness  for  Bragg  to  strike  his;  blow.  He 

3H 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

did  strike  it,  but  it  was  at  the  heart  of  the  South. 
He  stunned  the  Confederacy  by  giving  way  before 
Buell.  He  brought  hope  back  with  the  bloody  bat 
tle  of  Perryville.  Again  he  faced  Buell  at  Har- 
rodsburg,  and  then  he  wrought  broadcast  despair 
by  falling  back  without  battle,  dividing  ins  forces 
and  retreating  into  Tennessee.  The  dream  of  a 
battle-line  along  the  Ohio  with  a  hundred  thousand 
more  men  behind  it  was  gone  and  the  last  and  best 
chance  to  win  the  war  was  lost  forever.  Morgan, 
furious  with  disappointment,  left  Lexington.  Ken 
tucky  fell  under  Federal  control  once  more;  and 
Major  Buford,  dazed,  dismayed,  unnerved,  hope 
less,  brought  the  news  out  to  the  Deans. 

'They'll  get  me  again,  I  suppose,  and  I  can't 
leave  home  on  account  of  Lucy." 

"Please  do,  Major,"  said  Mrs.  Dean.  "Send 
Miss  Lucy  over  here  and  make  your  escape.  We 
will  take  care  of  her."  The  Major  shook  his  head 
sadly  and  rode  away. 

Next  day  Margaret  sat  on  the  stile  and  saw  the 
Yankees  coming  back  to  Lexington.  On  one  side 
of  her  the  Stars  and  Bars  were  fixed  to  the  fence 
from  which  they  had  floated  since  the  day  she  had 
waved-  the  flag  at  them  as  they  fled.  She  saw  the 
advance  guard  come  over  the  hill  and  jog  down 
the  slope  and  then  the  regiment  slowly  following 
after.  In  the  rear  she  could  see  two  men,  riding 
unarmed.  Suddenly  three  cavalrymen  spurred 

315 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

forward  at  a  gallop  and  turned  in  at  her  gate. 
The  soldier  in  advance  was  an  officer,  and  he 
pulled  out  a  handkerchief,  waved  it  once,  and, 
with  a  gesture  to  his  companions,  came  on  alone. 
She  knew  the  horse  even  before  she  recognized  the 
rider,  and  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  lips  were  set,  and 
her  nostrils  began  to  dilate.  The  horseman  reined 
in  and  took  off  his  cap. 

"I  come  under  a  flag  of  truce,"  he  said,  gravely, 
"to  ask  this  garrison  to  haul  down  its  colors— 
and — to  save  useless  effusion  of  blood,"  he  added, 
still  more  gravely. 

"Your  war  on  women  has  begun,  then  ?" 

"I  am  obeying  orders — no  more,  no  less." 

"I  congratulate  you  on  your  luck  or  your  good 
judgment  always  to  be  on  hand  when  disagreeable 
duties  are  to  be  done." 

Chad  flushed. 

"Won't  you  take  the  flag  down  ?" 

"No,  make  your  attack.  You  will  have  one  of 
your  usual  victories — with  overwhelming  numbers 
—and  it  will  be  safe  and  bloodless.  There  are 
only  two  negroes  defending  this  garrison.  They 
will  not  fight,  nor  will  we." 

"Won't  you  take  the  flag  down  ?" 

"No!" 

Chad  lifted  his  cap  and  wheeled.  The  Colonel 
was  waiting  at  the  gate. 

"Well,  sir?"  he  asked,  frowning. 
316 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

"I  shall  need  help,  sir,  to  take  that  flag  down," 
said  Chad. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?" 

"A  woman  is  defending  it." 

"What!"  shouted  the  Colonel. 

"That  is  my  sister,  Colonel,"  said  Harry  Dean. 
The  Colonel  smiled  and  then  grew  grave. 

"You  should  warn  her  not  to  provoke  the  au 
thorities.  The  Government  is  advising  very  strict 
measures  now  with  rebel  sympathizers."  Then  he 
smiled  again. 

"Fours!        Left  wheel!        Halt!        Present- 
sabres!" 

A  line  of  sabres  flashed  in  the  sun,  and  Mar 
garet,  not  understanding,  snatched  the  flag  from 
the  fence  and  waved  it  back  in  answer.  The 
Colonel  laughed  aloud.  The  column  moved  on, 
and  each  captain,  following,  caught  the  humor  of 
the  situation  and  each  company  flashed  its  sabres 
as  it  went  by,  while  Margaret  stood  motionless. 

In  the  rear  rode  those  two  unarmed  prisoners. 
She  could  see  now  that  their  uniforms  were  gray 
and  she  knew  that  they  were  prisoners,  but  she  lit 
tle  dreamed  that  they  were  her  brother  Dan  and 
Rebel  Jerry  Dillon,  nor  did  Chad  Buford  or 
Harry  Dean  dream  of  the  purpose  for  which,  just 
at  that  time,  they  were  being  brought  back  to 
Lexington.  Perhaps  one  man  who  saw  them  did 
know:  for  Jerome  Conners,  from  the  woods  op- 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

posite,  watched  the  prisoners  ride  by  with  a  ma 
licious  smile  that  nothing  but  impending  danger 
to  an  enemy  could  ever  bring  to  his  face;  and  with 
the  same  smile  he  watched  Margaret  go  slowly 
back  to  the  house,  while  her  flag  still  fluttered  from 
the  stile. 

The  high  tide  of  Confederate  hopes  was  fast 
receding  now.  The  army  of  the  Potomac,  after 
Antietam,  which  overthrew  the  first  Confederate 
aggressive  campaign  at  the  East,  was  retreating 
into  its  Southern  stronghold,  as  was  the  army 
of  the  West  after  Bragg's  abandonment  of  Mum- 
fordsville,  and  the  rebel  retirement  had  given 
the  provost-marshals  in  Kentucky  full  sway.  Two 
hundred  Southern  sympathizers,  under  arrest,  had 
been  sent  into  exile  north  of  the  Ohio,  and 
large  sums  of  money  were  levied  for  guerilla 
outrages  here  and  there — a  heavy  sum  falling 
on  Major  Buford  for  a  vicious  murder  done 
in  his  neighborhood  by  Daws  Dillon  and  his 
band  on  the  night  of  the  capture  of  Daniel 
Dean  and  Rebel  Jerry.  The  Major  paid  the  levy 
with  the  first  mortgage  he  had  ever  given  in  his 
life,  and  straightway  Jerome  Conners,  who  had 
been  dealing  in  mules  and  other  Government  sup 
plies,  took  an  attitude  that  was  little  short  of  in 
solence  toward  his  old  master,  whose  farm  was 
passing  into  the  overseer's  clutches  at  last.  Only 
two  nights  before,  another  band  of  guerillas  had 

318 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

burned  a  farm-house,  killed  a  Unionist,  and  fled 
to  the  hills  before  the  incoming  Yankees,  and  the 
Kentucky  Commandant  had  sworn  vengeance  after 
the  old  Mosaic  way  on  victims  already  within  his 
power. 

That  night  Chad  and  Harry  were  summoned 
before  General  Ward.  They  found  him  seated 
with  his  chin  in  his  hand,  looking  out  the  window 
at  the  moonlit  campus.  Without  moving,  he  held 
out  a  dirty  piece  of  paper  to  Chad, 

"Read  that,"  he  said. 

"  You  have  ketched  two  of  my  men  and  I  hear 
as  how  you  mean  to  hang  'em.  If  you  hang  them 
two  men,  I'm  a-goin  to  hang  every  man  of  yours 
I  can  git  my  hands  on. 

"DAWS  DILLON — Captin." 

Chad  gave  a  low  laugh  and  Harry  smiled,  but 
the  General  kept  grave. 

"You  know,  of  course,  that  your  brother  be 
longs  to  Morgan's  command?" 

"I  do,  sir,"  said  Harry,  wonderingly. 

"Do  you  know  that  his  companion — the  man 
Dillon — Jerry  Dillon — does?" 

"I  do  not,  sir." 

'They  were  captured  by  a  squad  that  was  fight 
ing  Daws  Dillon.  This  Jerry  Dillon  has  the  same 
name  and  you  found  the  two  together  at  General 
Dean's." 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

"But  they  had  both  just  left  General  Morgan's 
command,"  said  Harry,  indignantly. 

'That  may  be  true,  but  this  Daws  Dillon  has 
sent  a  similar  message  to  the  Commandant,  and 
he  has  just  been  in  here  again  and  committed  two 
wanton  outrages  night  before  last.  The  Com 
mandant  is  enraged  and  has  issued  orders  for 
stern  retaliation." 

"It's  a  trick  of  Daws  Dillon,"  said  Chad,  hotly, 
"an  infamous  trick.  He  hates  his  Cousin  Jerry, 
he  hates  me,  and  he  hates  the  Deans,  because  they 
were  friends  of  mine."  General  Ward  looked 
troubled. 

'The  Commandant  says  he  has  been  positively 
informed  that  both  the  men  joined  Daws  Dillon 
an  the  fight  that  night.  He  has  issued  orders  that 
not  only  every  guerilla  captured  shall  be  hung,  but 
that,  whenever  a  Union  citizen  has  been  killed  by 
-•one  of  them,  four  of  such  marauders  are  to  be 
-taken  to  the  spot  and  shot  in  retaliation.  It  is  the 
.only  means  left,  he  says." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  The  faces  of  both 
the  lads  had  turned  white  as  each  saw  the  drift 
of  the  General's  meaning,  and  Harry  strode  for 
ward  to  his  desk. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  General  Ward 

The  General  wheeled  in  his  chair  and  pointed 
silently  to  an  order  that  lay  on  the  desk,  and  as 
Harry  started  to  read  it,  his  voice  broke.  Daniel 

320 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

Dean  and  Rebel  Jerry  were  to  be  shot  next  morn 
ing  at  sunrise. 


The  General  spoke  very  kindly  to  Harry. 

"I  have  known  this  all  day,  but  I  did  not  wish 
to  tell  you  until  I  had  done  everything  I  could. 
I  did  not  think  it  would  be  necessary  to  tell  you 
at  all,  for  I  thought  there  would  be  no  trouble. 
I  telegraphed  the  Commandant,  but" — he  turned 
again  to  the  window — "I  have  not  been  able  to 
get  them  a  trial  by  court-martial,  or  even  a  stay 
in  the  execution.  You'd  better  go  see  your  brother 
—he  knows  now — and  you'd  better  send  word  to 
your  mother  and  sister.'* 

Harry  shook  his  head.  His  face  was  so  drawn 
and  ghastly  as  he  stood  leaning  heavily  against 
the  table  that  Chad  moved  unconsciously  to  his 
side. 

"Where  is  the  Commandant?"  he  asked. 

"In  Frankfort,"  said  the  General.  Chad's  eyes 
kindled. 

"Will  you  let  me  go  see  him  to-night?" 

"  Certainly,  and  I  will  give  you  a  message  to  him. 
Perhaps  you  can  yet  save  the  boy,  but  there  is  no 
chance  for  the  man  Dillon."  The  General  took 
up  a  pen.  Harry  seemed  to  sway  as  he  turned  to 
go,  and  Chad  put  one  arm  around  him  and  went 
with  him  to  the  door. 

321 


THE    LITTLE   SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

"There  have  been  some  surprising  desertions 
from  the  Confederate  ranks,"  said  the  General, 
as  he  wrote.  'That's  the  trouble."  He  looked 
at  his  watch  as  he  handed  the  message  over  his 
shoulder  to  Chad.  "You  have  ten  hours  before 
sunrise  and  it  is  nearly  sixty  miles  there  and  back. 
If  you  are  not  here  with  a  stay  of  execution  both 
will  be  shot.  Do  you  think  that  you  can  make 
it  ?  Of  course  you  need  not  bring  the  message 
back  yourself.  You  can  get  the  Commandant  to 
telegraph—  The  slam  of  a  door  interrupted 
him — Chad  was  gone. 

Harry  was  holding  Dixie's  bridle  when  he 
reached  the  street  and  Chad  swung  into  the 
saddle. 

"Don't  tell  them  at  home,"  he  said.  'Til  be 
back  here  on  time,  or  I'll  be  dead." 

The  two  grasped  hands.  Harry  nodded  dumbly 
and  Dixie's  feet  beat  the  rhythm  of  her  matchless 
gallop  down  the  quiet  street.  The  sensitive  little 
mare  seemed  to  catch  at  once  the  spirit  of  her 
rider.  Her  haunches  quivered.  She  tossed  her 
head  and  champed  her  bit,  but  not  a  pound  did 
she  pull  as  she  settled  into  an  easy  lope  that  told 
how  ^vell  she  knew  that  the  ride  before  her  was 
long  and  hard.  Out  they  went  past  the  old  ceme 
tery,  past  the  shaft  to  Clay  rising  from  it,  silvered 
with  moonlight,  out  where  the  picket  fires  gleamed, 
and  swinging  on  toward  the  Capital,  unchallenged, 

322 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

for  the  moon  showed  the  blue  of  Chad's  uniform 
and  his  face  gave  sign  that  no  trivial  business,  that 
night,  was  his.  Over  quiet  fields  and  into  the 
aisles  of  sleeping  woods  beat  that  musical  rhythm 
ceaselessly,  awakening  drowsy  birds  by  the  way 
side,  making  bridges  thunder,  beating  on  and  on 
up  hill  and  down  until  picket  fires  shone  on  the 
hills  that  guard  the  Capital.  Through  them,  with 
but  one  challenge,  Chad  went,  down  the  big  hill, 
past  the  Armory,  and  into  the  town — pulling  pant 
ing  Dixie  up  before  a  wondering  sentinel  who 
guarded  the  Commandant's  sleeping  quarters. 

'The  Commandant  is  asleep." 

"Wake  him  up,"  said  Chad,  sharply.  A  staff- 
officer  appeared  at  the  door  in  answer  to  the  sen 
tinel's  knock. 

"What  is  your  business?" 

"A  message  from  General  Ward." 

'The  Commandant  gave  orders  that  he  was  not 
to  be  disturbed." 

"He  must  be,"  said  Chad.  "It  is  a  matter  of 
life  and  death." 

Above  him  a  window  was  suddenly  raised  and 
the  Commandant's  own  head  was  thrust  out. 

"Stop  that  noise,"  he  thundered.  Chad  told 
his  mission  and  the  Commandant  straightway  was 
furious. 

"How  dare  General  Ward  broach  that  matter 
again  ?  My  orders  are  given  and  they  will  not 

323 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

be  changed."     As  he  started  to  pull  the  window 
down,  Chad  cried: 

"  But,  General—  "  and  at  the  same  time  a  voice 
called  down  the  street: 

"General!"  Two  men  appeared  under  the  gas 
light — one  was  a  sergeant  and  the  other  a  fright 
ened  negro. 

"Here  is  a  message,  General." 

The  sash  went  down,  a  light  appeared  behind 
it,  and  soon  the  Commandant,  in  trousers  and  slip 
pers,  was  at  the  door.  He  read  the  note  with  a 
frown. 

"Where  did  you  get  this  ?" 

"A  sojer  come  to  my  house  out  on  the  edge  o' 
town,  suh,  and  said  he'd  kill  me  to-morrow  if  I 
didn't  hand  dis  note  to  you  pussonally." 

The  Commandant  turned  to  Chad.  Somehow 
his  manner  seemed  suddenly  changed. 

"Do  you  know  that  these  men  belonged  to 
Morgan's  command  ?" 

"I  know  that  Daniel  Dean  did  and  that  the  man 
Dillon  was  with  him  when  captured." 

Still  frowning  savagely,  the  Commandant  turned 
inside  to  his  desk  and  a  moment  later  the  staff- 
officer  brought  out  a  telegram  and  gave  it  tc 
Chad. 

"You  can  take  this  to  the  telegraph  office  your 
self.     It  is  a  stay  of  execution." 

"Thank  you." 

324 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

Chad  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  and  gladness 
and  patted  Dixie  on  the  neck  as  he  rode  slowly 
toward  the  low  building  where  he  had  missed  the 
train  on  his  first  trip  to  the  Capital.  The  tele 
graph  operator  dashed  to  the  door  as  Chad  drew 
up  in  front  of  it.  He  looked  pale  and  excited. 

"Send  this  telegram  at  once,"  said  Chad. 

The  operator  looked  at  it. 

"Not  in  that  direction  to-night,'*  he  said,  with 
a  strained  laugh,  "the  wires  are  cut." 

Chad  almost  reeled  in  his  saddle — then  the 
paper  was  whisked  from  the  astonished  operator's 
hand  and  horse  and  rider  clattered  up  the  hill. 


At  head-quarters  the  Commandant  was  hand 
ing  the  negro's  note  to  a  staff-officer.  It  read: 

"  You  hang  those  two  men  at  sunrise  to-morrow, 
and  I'll  hang  you  at  sundown." 

It  was  signed  "John  Morgan,"  and  the  signa 
ture  was  Morgan's  own. 

"I  gave  the  order  only  last  night.  How  could 
Morgan  have  heard  of  it  so  soon,  and  how  could 
he  have  got  this  note  to  me  ?  Could  he  have  come 
back?" 

"Impossible,"  said  the  staff-officer.  "He 
wouldn't  dare  come  back  now." 

The  Commandant  shook  his  head  doubtfully, 
and  just  then  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and 

325 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

the    operator,    still    pale    and    excited,    spoke    his 
message: 

"General,  the  wires  are  cut." 

The  two  officers  stared  at  each  other  in  silence. 


Twenty-seven  miles  to  go  and  less  than  three 
hours  before  sunrise.  There  was  a  race  yet  for 
the  life  of  Daniel  Dean.  The  gallant  little  mare 
could  cover  the  stretch  with  nearly  an  hour  to 
spare,  and  Chad,  thrilled  in  every  nerve,  but  with 
calm  confidence,  raced  against  the  coming  dawn. 

"The  wires  are  cut." 

Who  had  cut  them  and  where  and  when  and 
why  ?  No  matter — Chad  had  the  paper  in  his 
pocket  that  would  save  two  lives  and  he  would 
be  on  time  even  if  Dixie  broke  her  noble  heart, 
but  he  could  not  get  the  words  out  of  his  brain- 
even  Dixie's  hoofs  beat  them  out  ceaselessly: 

"The  wires  are  cut — the  wires  are  cut!" 

The  mystery  would  have  been  clear,  had  Chad 
known  the  message  that  lay  on  the  Commandant's 
desk  back  at  the  Capital,  for  the  boy  knew  Mor 
gan,  and  that  Morgan's  lips  never  opened  for  an 
idle  threat.  He  would  have  ridden  just  as  hard, 
had  he  known,  but  a  different  purpose  would  have 
been  his. 

An  hour  more  and  there  was  still  no  light  in  the 
East.  An  hour  more  and  one  red  streak  had  shot 

326 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

upward;  then  ahead  of  him  gleamed  a  picket  fire 
— a  fire  that  seemed  farther  from  town  than  any 
post  he  had  seen  on  his  way  down  to  the  Capital 
—but  he  gallooed  on.  Within  fifty  yards  a  cry 
came: 

"Halt!     Who  comes  there  ?" 

"Friend,"  he  shouted,  reining  in.  A  bullet 
whizzed  past  his  head  as  he  pulled  up  outside  the 
edge  of  the  fire  and  Chad  shouted  indignantly: 

"Don't  shoot,  you  fool!  I  have  a  message  for 
General  Ward!" 

"Oh!  All  right!  Come  on!"  said  the  sentinel, 
but  his  hesitation  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  made 
the  boy  alert  with  suspicion.  The  other  pickets 
about  the  fire  had  risen  and  grasped  their  muskets. 
The  wind  flared  the  flames  just  then  and  in  the 
leaping  light  Chad  saw  that  their  uniforms  were 
gray. 

The  boy  almost  gasped.  There  was  need  for 
quick  thought  and  quick  action  now. 

"Lower  that  blunderbuss,"  he  called  out,  jest 
ingly,  and  kicking  loose  from  one  stirrup,  he 
touched  Dixie  with  the  spur  and  pulled  her  up 
with  an  impatient  "Whoa,"  as  though  he  were 
trying  to  replace  his  foot. 

"You  come  on!"  said  the  sentinel,  but  he 
dropped  his  musket  to  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and, 
before  he  could  throw  it  to  his  shoulder  again,  fire 
flashed  under  Dixie's  feet  and  the  astonished  retel 

327 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

saw  horse  and  rider  rise  over  the  pike-fence.  His 
bullet  went  overhead  as  Dixie  landed  on  the  other 
side,  and  the  pickets  at  the  fire  joined  in  a  fusillade 
at  the  dark  shapes  speeding  across  the  bluegrass 
field.  A  moment  later  Chad's  mocking  yell  rang 
from  the  edge  of  the  woods  beyond  and  the  dis 
gusted  sentinel  split  the  night  with  oaths. 

"That  beats  the  devil.  We  never  touched  him. 
I  swear,  I  believe  that  hoss  had  wings." 

Morgan!  The  flash  of  that  name  across  his 
brain  cleared  the  mystery  for  Chad  like  magic. 
Nobody  but  Morgan  and  his  daredevils  could  rise 
out  of  the  ground  like  that  in  the  very  midst  of 
enemies  when  they  were  supposed  to  be  hundreds 
of  miles  away  in  Tennessee.  Morgan  had  cut  those 
wires.  Morgan  had  every  road  around  Lexington 
guarded,  no  doubt,  and  was  at  that  hour  hemming 
in  Chad's  unsuspicious  regiment,  whose  camp  was 
on  the  other  side  of  town,  and  unless  he  could  give 
warning,  Morgan  would  drop  like  a  thunderbolt 
on  it,  asleep.  He  must  circle  the  town  now  to  get 
around  the  rebel  posts,  and  that  meant  several  miles 
more  for  Dixie. 

He  stopped  and  reached  down  to  feel  the  little 
mare's  flanks.  Dixie  drew  a  long  breath  and 
dropped  her  muzzle  to  tear  up  a  rich  mouthful 
of  bluegrass. 

"Oh,  you  beauty!"  said  the  boy,  "you  won 
der!"  And  on  he  went,  through  woodland  and 

328 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

field,  over  gully,  log,  and  fence,  bullets  ringing 
after  him  from  nearly  every  road  he  crossed. 

Morgan  was  near.  In  disgust,  when  Bragg  re 
treated,  he  had  got  permission  to  leave  Kentucky 
in  his  own  way.  That  meant  wheeling  and  mak 
ing  straight  back  to  Lexington  to  surprise  the 
Fourth  Ohio  Cavalry;  representing  himself  on  the 
way,  one  night,  as  his  old  enemy  Wolford,  and 
being  guided  a  short  cut  through  the  edge  of  the 
Bluegrass  by  an  ardent  admirer  of  the  Yankee 
Colonel — the  said  admirer  giving  Morgan  the 
worst  tirade  possible,  meanwhile,  and  nearly  tum 
bling  from  his  horse  when  Morgan  told  him 
who  he  was  and  sarcastically  advised  him  to 
make  sure  next  time  to  whom  he  paid  his  com 
pliments. 

So  that  while  Chad,  with  the  precious  message 
under  his  jacket,  and  Dixie  were  lightly  thunder 
ing  along  the  road,  Morgan's  Men  were  gobbling 
up  pickets  around  Lexington  and  making  ready 
for  an  attack  on  the  sleeping  camp  at  dawn. 

The  dawn  was  nearly  breaking  now,  and  Harry 
Dean  was  pacing  to  and  fro  before  the  old  Court- 
House  where  Dan  and  Rebel  Jerry  lay  under  guard 
—pacing  to  and  fro  and  waiting  for  his  mother  and 
sister  to  come  to  say  the  last  good-by  to  the  boy— 
for  Harry  had  given  up  hope  and  had  sent  for  them. 
At  that  very  hour  Richard  Hunt  was  leading  his 
regiment  around  the  Ashland  woods  where  the 

329 


THE    LITTLE   SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

enemy  lay;  another  regiment  was  taking  its  place 
between  the  camp  and  the  town,  and  gray  figures 
were  slipping  noiselessly  on  the  provost-guard  that 
watched  the  rebel  prisoners  who  were  waiting  for 
death  at  sunrise.  As  the  dawn  broke,  the  dash 
came,  and  Harry  Dean  was  sick  at  heart  as  he 
sharply  rallied  the  startled  guard  to  prevent  the 
rescue  of  his  own  brother  and  straightway  deliri 
ous  with  joy  when  he  saw  the  gray  mass  sweeping 
on  him  and  knew  that  he  would  fail.  A  few  shots 
rang  out;  the  far  rattle  of  musketry  rose  between 
the  camp  and  town;  the  thunder  of  the  "  Bull  Pups" 
saluted  the  coming  light,  and  Dan  and  Rebel  Jer 
ry  had  suddenly — instead  of  death — life,  liberty, 
arms,  a  horse  each,  and  the  sudden  pursuit  of  hap 
piness  in  a  wild  dash  toward  the  Yankee  camp, 
while  in  a  dew-drenched  meadow  two  miles  away, 
Chad  Buford  drew  Dixie  in  to  listen.  The  fight 
was  on. 

If  the  rebels  won,  Dan  Dean  would  be  safe;  if 
the  Yankees — then  there  would  still  be  need  of 
him  and  the  paper  over  his  heart.  He  was  too 
late  to  warn,  but  not,  maybe,  to  fight — so  he  gal 
loped  on. 

But  the  end  came  as  he  galloped.  The  amazed 
Fourth  Ohio  threw  down  its  arms  at  once,  and 
Richard  Hunt  and  his  men,  as  they  sat  on  their 
horses  outside  the  camp  picking  up  stragglers, 
saw  a  lone  scout  coming  at  a  gallop  across  the  still, 

33° 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

gray  fields.  His  horse  was  black  and  his  uniform 
was  blue,  but  he  came  straight  on,  apparently  not 
seeing  the  rebels  behind  the  ragged  hedge  along 
the  road.  When  within  thirty  yards,  Richard 
Hunt  rode  through  a  roadside  gate  to  meet  •him 
and  saluted. 

"You  are  my  prisoner/'  he  said,  courteously. 

The  Yankee  never  stopped,  but  wheeled,  almost 
brushing  the  hedge  as  he  turned. 

"Prisoner — hell!"  he  said,  clearly,  and  like  a 
bird  was  skimming  away  while  the  men  behind  the 
hedge,  paralyzed  by  his  daring,  fired  not  a  shot. 
Only  Dan  Dean  started  through  the  gate  in  pur 
suit. 

"I  want  him,"  he  said,  savagely. 

"Who's  that?"  asked  Morgan,  who  had  rid 
den  up. 

'That's  a  Yankee,"  laughed  Colonel  Hunt. 

"Why  didn't  you  shoot  him?"  The  Colonel 
laughed  again. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said,  looking  around  at  his 
men,  who,  too,  were  smiling. 

'That's  the  fellow  who  gave  us  so  much  trouble 
in  the  Green  River  Country,"  said  a  soldier.  "It's 
Chad  Buford." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  we  didn't  shoot  him,"  said 
Colonel  Hunt,  thinking  of  Margaret.  That  was 
not  the  way  he  liked  to  dispose  of  a  rival. 

"Dan  will  catch  him,"  said  an  officer.     "He 

331 


wants  him  bad,  and  I  don't  wonder."  Just  then 
Chad  lifted  Dixie  over  a  fence. 

"Not  much,"  said  Morgan.  "I'd  rather  you'd 
shot  him  than  that  horse." 

Dan  was  gaining  now,  and  Chad,  in  the  middle 
of  the  field  beyemd  the  fence,  turned  his  head  and 
saw  the  lone  rebel  in  pursuit.  Deliberately  he 
pulled  weary  Dixie  in,  faced  about,  and  waited. 
He  drew  his  pistol,  raised  it,  saw  that  the  rebel 
was  Daniel  Dean,  and  dropped  it  again  to  his  side. 
Verily  the  fortune  of  that  war  was  strange.  Dan's 
horse  refused  the  fence  and  the  boy,  in  a  rage, 
lifted  his  pistol  and  fired.  Again  Chad  raised  his 
own  pistol  and  again  he  lowered  it  just  as  Dan 
fired  again.  This  time  Chad  lurched  in  his  sad 
dle,  but  recovering  himself,  turned  and  galloped 
slowly  away,  while  Dan — his  pistol  hanging  at  his 
side — stared  after  him,  and  the  wondering  rebels 
behind  the  hedge  stared  hard  at  Dan. 


All  was  over.  The  Fourth  Ohio  Cavalry  was 
in  rebel  hands,  and  a  few  minutes  later  Dan  rode 
with  General  Morgan  and  Colonel  Hunt  toward 
the  Yankee  camp.  There  had  been  many  blun 
ders  in  the  fight.  Regiments  had  fired  into  each 
other  in  the  confusion  and  the  "Bull  Pups''  had 
kept  on  pounding  the  Yankee  camp  even  while  the 
rebels  were  taking  possession  of  it.  On  the  way 

332 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

they  met  Renfrew,  the  Silent,  in  his  brilliant  Zou 
ave  jacket. 

"Colonel,"  he  said,  indignantly — ard  it  was  the 
first  time  many  had  ever  heard  him  open  his  lips 
— "some  officer  over  there  deliberately  fired  twice 
at  me,  though  I  was  holding  my  arms  over  my 
head." 

"It  was  dark,"  said  Colonel  Hunt,  soothingly. 
"He  didn't  know  you." 

"Ah,  Colonel,  he  might  not  have  known  me — 
but  he  must  have  known  this  jacket." 

On  the  outskirts  of  one  group  of  prisoners  was 
a  tall,  slender  young  lieutenant  with  a  streak  of 
blood  across  one  cheek.  Dan  pulled  in  his  horse 
and  the  two  met  each  other's  eyes  silently.  Dan 
threw  himself  from  his  horse. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Harry?" 

"It's  nothing — but  you've  got  me,  Dan." 

"Why,  Harry!"  said  Morgan.  "Is  that  you  ? 
You  are  paroled,  my  boy,"  he  added,  kindly.  "Go 
home  and  stay  until  you  are  exchanged." 

So,  Harry,  as  a  prisoner,  did  what  he  had  not 
done  before — he  went  home  immediately.  And 
home  with  him  went  Dan  and  Colonel  Hunt, 
while  they  could,  for  the  Yankees  would  soon  be 
after  them  from  the  north,  east,  south  and  west.  Be 
hind  them  trotted  Rebel  Jerry.  On  the  edge  of 
town  they  saw  a  negro  lashing  a  pair  of  horses 
along  the  turnpike  toward  them.  Two  white- 

333 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

faced  women  were  seated  in  a  carnage  behind  him, 
and  in  a  moment  Dan  was  in  the  arms  of  his 
mother  and  sister  and  both  women  were  looking, 
through  tears,  their  speechless  gratitude  to  Rich 
ard  Hunt. 

The  three  Confederates  did  not  stay  long  at  the 
Deans'.  Jerry  Dillon  was  on  the  lookout,  and 
even  while  the  Deans  were  at  dinner,  Rufus  ran 
in  with  the  familiar  cry  that  Yankees  were  com 
ing.  It  was  a  regiment  from  an  adjoining  county, 
but  Colonel  Hunt  finished  his  coffee,  amid  all  the 
excitement,  most  leisurely. 

''You'll  pardon  us  for  eating  and  running,  won't 
you,  Mrs.  Dean?"  It  was  the  first  time  in  her 
life  that  Mrs.  Dean  ever  speeded  a  parting  guest. 

"Oh,  do  hurry,  Colonel — please,  please."  Dan 
laughed. 

"Good-by,  Harry,"  he  said.  "We'll  give  you 
a  week  or  two  at  home  before  we  get  that  ex 
change." 

"Don't  make  it  any  longer  than  necessary, 
please,"  said  Harry,  gravely. 

"We're  coming  back  again,  Mrs.  Dean,"  said 
the  Colonel,  and  then  in  a  lower  tone  to  Marga 
ret:  "I'm  coming  often,"  he  added,  and  Margaret 
blushed  in  a  way  that  would  not  have  given  very 
great  joy  to  one  Chadwick  Buford. 

Very  leisurely  the  three  rode  out  to  the  pike- 
gate,  where  they  halted  and  surveyed  the  advanc- 

334 


A  RACE  BETWEEN  DIXIE  AND  DAWN 

ing  column,  which  was  still  several  hundred  yards 
away,  and  then  with  a  last  wave  of  their  caps, 
started  in  a  slow  gallop  for  town.  The  advance 
guard  started  suddenly  in  pursuit,  and  the  Deans 
saw  Dan  turn  in  his  saddle  and  heard  his  defiant 
yell.  Margaret  ran  down  and  fixed  her  flag  in  its 
place  on  the  fence — Harry  watching  her. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  sadly,  "you  don't  know 
what  trouble  you  may  be  laying  for  up  yourself." 

Fate  could  hardly  lay  up  more  than  what  she 
already  had,  but  the  mother  smiled. 

"I  can  do  nothing  with  Margaret,"  she  said. 

In  town  the  Federal  flags  had  been  furled  and 
the  Stars  and  Bars  thrown  out  to  the  wind.  Mor 
gan  was  preparing  to  march  when  Dan  and  Colonel 
Hunt  galloped  up  to  head-quarters. 

'They're  coming,"  said  Hunt,  quietly. 

"Yes,"  said  Morgan,  "from  every  direction." 

"Ah,  John,"  called  an  old  fellow,  who,  though 
a  Unionist,  believing  in  keeping  peace  with  both 
sides,  "when  we  don't  expect  you — then  is  the  time 
you  come.  Going  to  stay  long?" 

"Not  long,"  said  Morgan,  grimly.  "In  fact, 
I  guess  we'll  be  moving  along  now." 

And  he  did — back  to  Dixie  with  his  prisoners, 
tearing  up  railroads,  burning  bridges  and  trestles, 
and  pursued  by  enough  Yankees  to  have  eaten  him 
and  his  entire  command  if  they  ever  could  have 
caught  him.  As  they  passed  into  Dixie,  "Light- 

335 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

ning"  captured  a  telegraph  office  and  had  a  last 
little  fling  at  his  Yankee  brethren. 

"Head-quarters,  Telegraph  Dept.  of  Ky.,  Con 
federate  States  of  America" — thus  he  headed  his 
"General  Order  No.  i"  to  the  various  Union  au 
thorities  throughout  the  State. 

"Hereafter,"  he  clicked,  grinning,  "an  operator 
will  destroy  telegraphic  instruments  and  all  ma 
terial  in  charge  when  informed  that  Morgan  has 
crossed  the  border.  Such  instances  of  carelessness 
as  lately  have  been  exhibited  in  the  Bluegrass  will 
be  severely  dealt  with. 

"By  order  of 

"LIGHTNING, 
"Gen.  Supt.  C.  S.  Tel.  Dept." 

Just  about  that  time  Chad  Buford,  in  a  Yankee 
hospital,  was  coming  back  from  the  land  of  ether 
dreams.  An  hour  later,  the  surgeon  who  had  taken 
Dan's  bullet  from  his  shoulder,  handed  him  a  piece 
of  paper,  black  with  faded  blood  and  scarcely 
legible. 

"I  found  that  in  your  jacket,"  he  said.  "Is  it 
important?" 

Chad  smiled. 

"No,"  he  said.     "Not  now." 


336 


XXV 

AFTER   DAWS    DILLON  —  GUERILLA 


more,  and  for  the  last  time,  Chadwick 
Buford  jogged  along  the  turnpike  from  the 
Ohio  to  the  heart  of  the  Bluegrass.  He  had  filled 
his  empty  shoulder-straps  with  two  bars.  He  had 
a  bullet  wound  through  one  shoulder  and  there 
was  a  beautiful  sabre  cut  across  his  right  cheek. 
He  looked  the  soldier  every  inch  of  him;  he  was, 
in  truth,  what  he  looked;  and  he  was,  moreover, 
a  man.  Naturally,  his  face  was  stern  and  reso 
lute,  if  only  from  habit  of  authority,  but  he  had 
known  no  passion  during  the  war  that  might  have 
seared  its  kindness;  no  other  feeling  toward  his 
foes  than  admiration  for  their  unquenchable  cour 
age  and  miserable  regret  that  to  such  men  he  must 
be  a  foe. 

Now,  it  was  coming  spring  again  —  the  spring 
of  '64,  and  but  one  more  year  of  the  war  to  come. 

The  capture  of  the  Fourth  Ohio  by  Morgan 
that  autumn  of  '62  had  given  Chad  his  long- 
looked-for  chance.  He  turned  Dixie's  head 
toward  the  foothills  to  join  Wolford,  for  with 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

Wolford  was  the  work  that  he  loved — that  leader 
being  more  like  Morgan' in  his  method  and  daring 
than  any  other  Federal  cavalryman  in  the  field. 

Behind  him,  in  Kentucky,  he  left  the  State  un 
der  martial  sway  once  more,  and,  thereafter,  the 
troubles  of  rebel  sympathizers  multiplied  steadily, 
for  never  again  was  the  State  under  rebel  control. 
A  heavy  hand  was  laid  on  every  rebel  roof. 
Major  Buford  was  sent  to  prison  again.  General 
Dean  was  in  Virginia,  fighting,  and  only  the  fact 
that  there  was  no  man  in  the  Dean  household  on 
whom  vengeance  could  fall,  saved  Margaret  and 
Mrs.  Dean  from  suffering,  but  even  the  time  of 
women  was  to  come. 

On  the  last  day  of '62,  Murfreesboro  was  fought 
and  the  second  great  effort  of  the  Confederacy  at 
the  West  was  lost.  Again  Bragg  withdrew.  On 
New  Year's  Day,  '63,  Lincoln  freed  the  slaves — 
and  no  rebel  was  more  indignant  than  wras  Chad- 
wick  Buford.  The  Kentucky  Unionists,  in  general, 
protested:  the  Confederates  had  broken  the  Con 
stitution,  they  said;  the  Unionists  were  helping  to 
maintain  that  contract  and  now  the  Federals  had 
broken  the  Constitution,  and  their  own  high  ground 
was  swept  from  beneath  their  feet.  They  pro 
tested  as  bitterly  as  their  foes,  be  it  said,  against 
the  Federals  breaking  up  political  conventions  with 
bayonets  and  against  the  ruin  of  innocent  citizens 
for  the  crimes  of  guerillas,  for  whose  acts  nobody 

338 


AFTER  DAWS  DILLON— GUERILLA 

was  responsible,  but  all  to  no  avail.    The  terrorism 
only  grew  the  more. 

When  summer  came,  and  while  Grant  was  bi 
secting  the  Confederacy  at  Vicksburg,  by  open 
ing  the  Mississippi,  and  Lee  was  fighting  Gettys 
burg,  Chad,  with  Wolford,  chased  Morgan  when 
he  gathered  his  clans  for  his  last  daring  venture 
—to  cross  the  Ohio  and  strike  the  enemy  on 
its  own  hearth-stones — and  thus  give  him  a 
little  taste  of  what  the  South  had  long  known 
from  border  to  border.  Pursued  by  Federals, 
Morgan  got  across  the  river,  waving  a  fare 
well  to  his  pursuing  enemies  on  the  other  bank, 
and  struck  out.  Within  three  days,  one  hundred 
thousand  men  were  after  him  and  his  two  thou 
sand  daredevils,  cutting  down  trees  behind  him 
(in  case  he  should  return!),  flanking  him,  getting 
in  his  front,  but  on  he  went,  uncaught  and  spread 
ing  terror  for  a  thousand  miles,  while  behind  him 
for  six  hundred  miles  country  people  lined  the 
dusty  road,  singing  "  Rally  'round  the  Flag,  Boys," 
and  handing  out  fried  chicken  and  blackberry-pie 
to  his  pursuers.  Men  taken  afterward  with  ty 
phoid  fever  sang  that  song  through  their  delirium 
and  tasted  fried  chicken  no  more  as  long  as  they 
lived.  Hemmed  in  as  Morgan  was,  he  would 
have  gotten  away,  but  for  the  fact  that  a  heavy 
fog  made  'him  miss  the  crossing  of  the  river,  and 
for  the  further  reason  that  the  first  rise  in  the  river 

339 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

in  that  month  for  twenty  years  made  it  impossible 
for  his  command  to  swim.  He  might  have  fought 
out,  but  his  ammunition  was  gone.  Many  did  es 
cape,  and  Morgan  himself  could  have  gotten  away. 
Chad,  himself,  saw  the  rebel  chief  swimming  the 
river  on  a  powerful  horse,  followed  by  a  negro- 
servant  on  another- — saw  him  turn  deliberately  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream,  when  it  was  plain  that 
his  command  could  not  escape,  and  make  for  the 
Ohio  shore  to  share  the  fortunes  of  his  beloved 
officers  who  were  left  behind.  Chad  heard  him 
shout  to  the  negro: 

"Go  back,  you  will  be  drowned."  The  negro 
turned  his  face  and  Chad  laughed- — it  was  Snow 
ball,  grinning  and  shaking  his  head: 

"  No,  Mars  John,  no  suh ! "  he  yelled.  "  It's  all 
right  fer  you!  You  can  git  a  furlough,  but  dis 
nigger  ain't  gwine  to  be  cotched  in  no  free  State. 
'Sides,  Mars  Dan,  he  gwine  to  get  away,  too." 
And  Dan  did  get  away,  and  Chad,  to  his  shame, 
saw  Morgan  and  Colonel  Hunt  loaded  on  a  boat 
to  be  sent  down  to  prison  in  a  State  penitentiary! 
It  was  a  grateful  surprise  to  Chad,  two  months 
later,  to  learn  from  a  Federal  officer  that  Morgan 
with  six  others  had  dug  out  of  prison  and  escaped. 

"I  was  going  through  that  very  town,"  said  the 
officer,  "and  a  fellow,  shaved  and  sheared  like  a 
convict,  got  aboard  and  sat  down  in  the  same  seat 
with  me.  As  we  passed  the  penitentiary,  he  turned 
with  a  yawn — and  said,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way: 

340 


AFTER  DAWS  DILLON— GUERILLA 

'That's  where  Morgan  is  kept,  isn't  it?'  and 
then  he  drew  out  a  flask.  I  thought  he  had  won 
derfully  good  manners  in  spite  of  his  looks,  and, 
so  help  me,  if  he  didn't  wave  his  hand,  bow  like 
a  Bayard,  and  hand  it  over  to  me: 

'Let's  drink  to  the  hope  that  Morgan  may 
always  be  as  safe  as  he  is  now.'  I  drank  to  his 
toast  with  a  hearty  Amen,  and  the  fellow  never 
cracked  a  smile.  It  was  Morgan  himself." 

Early  in  '64  the  order  had  gone  round  for  negroes 
to  be  enrolled  as  soldiers,  and  again  no  rebel  felt 
more  outraged  than  Chadwick  Buford.  Wolford, 
his  commander,  was  dishonorably  dismissed  from 
the  service  for  bitter  protests  and  harsh  open  criti 
cism  of  the  Government,  and  Chad,  himself,  felt 
like  tearing  ofFwith  his  own  hands  the  straps  which 
he  had  won  with  so  much  bravery  and  worn  with  so 
much  pride.  But  the  instinct  that  led  him  into  the 
Union  service  kept  his  lips  sealed  when  his  respect 
for  that  service,  in  his  own  State,  was  well-nigh 
gone — kept  him  in  that  State  where  he  thought  his 
duty  lay.  There  was  need  of  him  and  thousands 
more  like  him.  For,  while  active  war  was  now 
over  in  Kentucky,  its  brood  of  evils  was  still  thick 
ening.  Every  county  in  the  State  was  ravaged  by 
a  guerilla  band — and  the  ranks  of  these  marauders 
began  to  be  swelled  by  Confederates,  particularly 
in  the  mountains  and  in  the  hills  that  skirt  them. 
Banks,  trains,  public  vaults,  stores,  were  robbed 

341 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD   OF    KINGDOM    COME 

right  and  left,  and  murder  and  revenge  were  of 
daily  occurrence.  Daws  Dillon  was  an  open  terror 
both  in  the  mountains  and  in  the  Bluegrass.  Hith 
erto  the  bands  had  been  Union  and  Confederate, 
but  now,  more  and  more,  men  who  had  been  rebels 
joined  them.  And  Chad  Buford  could  understand. 
For,  many  a  rebel  soldier — "hopeless  now  for  his 
cause,"  as  Richard  Hunt  was  wont  to  say,  "fight 
ing  from  pride,  bereft  of  sympathy,  aid,  and  en 
couragement  that  he  once  received,  and  compelled 
to  wring  existence  from  his  own  countrymen;  a 
cavalryman  on  some  out-post  department,  perhaps, 
without  rations,  fluttering  with  rags;  shod,  if  shod 
at  all,  with  shoes  that  sucked  in  rain  and  cold; 
sleeping  at  night  under  the  blanket  that  kept  his 
saddle  by  day  from  his  sore-backed  horse;  paid, 
if  paid  at  all,  with  waste  paper;  hardened  into 
recklessness  by  war — many  a  rebel  soldier  thus  be 
came  a  guerilla — consoling  himself,  perhaps,  with 
the  thought  that  his  desertion  was  not  to  the  ene 
my." 

Bad  as  the  methods  of  such  men  were,  they 
were  hardly  worse  than  the  means  taken  in  retali 
ation.  At  first,  Confederate  sympathizers  were 
arrested  and  held  as  hostages  for  all  persons  capt 
ured  and  detained  by  guerillas.  Later,  when  a 
citizen  was  killed  by  one  of  these  bands,  four  pris 
oners,  supposed  to  be  chosen  from  this  class  of 
free-booters,  were  taken  from  prison  and  shot  to 

342 


AFTER  DAWS  DILLON— GUERILLA 

death  on  the  spot  where  the  deed  was  done.  Now 
it  was  rare  that  one  of  these  brigands  was  ever 
taken  alive,  and  thus  regular  soldier  after  soldier 
who  was  a  prisoner  of  war,  and  entitled  to  con 
sideration  as  such,  was  taken  from  prison  and 
murdered  by  the  Commandant  without  even  a 
court-martial.  It  was  such  a  death  that  Dan  Dean 
and  Rebel  Jerry  had  narrowly  escaped.  Union 
men  were  imprisoned  even  for  protesting  against 
these  outrages,  so  that  between  guerilla  and  pro 
vost-marshal  no  citizen,  whether  Federal  or  Con 
federate,  in  sympathy,  felt  safe  in  property,  life, 
or  liberty.  The  better  Unionists  were  alienated, 
but  worse  yet  was  to  come.  Hitherto,  only  the 
finest  chivalry  had  been  shown  women  and  children 
throughout  the  war.  Women  whose  brothers  and 
husbands  and  sons  were  in  the  rebel  army,  or  dead 
on  the  battle-field,  were  banished  now  with  their 
children  to  Canada  under  a  negro  guard,  or  sent 
to  prison.  State  authorities  became  openly  ar 
rayed  against  provost-marshals  and  their  follow 
ers.  There  was  almost  an  open  clash.  The  Gov 
ernor,  a  Unionist,  threatened  even  to  recall  the 
Kentucky  troops  from  the  field  to  come  back  and 
protect  their  homes.  Even  the  Home  Guards  got 
disgusted  with  their  masters,  and  for  a  while  it 
seemed  as  if  the  State,  between  guerilla  and  pro 
vost-marshal,  would  go  to  pieces.  For  months  the 
Confederates  had  repudiated  all  connection  with 

343 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

these  free-booters  and  had  joined  with  Federals  in 
hunting  them  down,  but  when  the  State  govern 
ment  tried  to  raise  troops  to  crush  them,  the  Com 
mandant  not  only  ordered  his  troops  to  resist  the 
State,  but  ordered  the  muster-out  of  all  State  troops 
then  in  service. 

The  Deans  little  knew  then  how  much  trouble 
Captain  Chad  Buford,  whose  daring  service  against 
guerillas  had  given  him  great  power  with  the 
Union  authorities,  had  saved  them — how  he  had 
kept  them  from  arrest  and  imprisonment  on  the 
charge  of  none  other  than  Jerome  Conners,  the 
overseer;  how  he  had  ridden  out  to  pay  his  per 
sonal  respects  to  the  complainant,  and  that  brave 
gentleman,  seeing  him  from  afar,  had  mounted 
his  horse  and  fled,  terror-stricken.  They  never 
knew  that  just  after  this  he  had  got  a  furlough 
and  gone  to  see  Grant  himself,  who  had  sent  him 
on  to  tell  his  story  to  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"Go  back  to  Kentucky,  then,"  said  Grant,  with 
his  quiet  smile,  "and  if  General  Ward  has  noth 
ing  particular  for  you  to  do,  I  want  him  to  send 
you  to  me,"  and  Chad  had  gone  from  him,  dizzy 
with  pride  and  hope. 

"I'm  going  to  do  something,"  said  Mr.  Lin 
coln,  "and  I'm  going  to  do  it  right  away/' 

And  now,  in  the  spring  of  '64,  Chad  carried  in 
his  breast  despatches  from  the  President  himself 
to  General  Ward  at  Lexington. 

344 


AFTER  DAWS  DILLON— GUERILLA 

As  he  rode  over  the  next  hill,  from  which  he 
would  get  his  first  glimpse  of  his  old  home  and 
the  Deans',  his  heart  beat  fast  and  his  eyes  swept 
both  sides  of  the  road.  Both  houses — even  the 
Deans' — were  shuttered  and  closed — both  tenant- 
less.  He  saw  not  even  a  negro  cabin  that  showed 
a  sign  of  life. 

On  he  went  at  a  gallop  toward  Lexington.  Not 
a  single  rebel  flag  had  he  seen  since  he  left  the 
Ohio,  nor  was  he  at  all  surprised;  the  end  could 
not  be  far  off,  and  there  was  no  chance  that  the 
Federals  would  ever  again  lose  the  State. 

On  the  edge  of  the  town  he  overtook  a  Federal 
officer.  It  was  Harry  Dean,  pale  and  thin  from 
long  imprisonment  and  sickness.  Harry  had  been 
with  Sherman,  had  been  captured  again,  and,  in 
prison,  had  almost  died  with  fever.  He  had  come 
home  to  get  well  only  to  find  his  sister  and  mother 
sent  as  exiles  to  Canada.  Major  Buford  was  still 
in  prison,  Miss  Lucy  was  dead,  and  Jerome  Con- 
ners  seemed  master  of  the  house  and  farm.  Gen 
eral  Dean  had  been  killed,  had  been  sent  home, 
and  was  buried  in  the  garden.  It  was  only  two 
days  after  the  burial,  Harry  said,  that  Margaret 
and  her  mother  had  to  leave  their  home.  Even 
the  bandages  that  Mrs.  Dean  had  brought  out  to 
Chad's  wounded  sergeant,  that  night  he  had  capt 
ured  and  lost  Dan,  had  been  brought  up  as  proof 
that  she  and  Margaret  were  aiding  and  abetting 

345 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

Confederates.  Dan  had  gone  to  join  Morgan  and 
Colonel  Hunt  over  in  southwestern  Virginia,  where 
Morgan  had  at  last  got  a  new  command  only  a 
few  months  before.  Harry  made  no  word  of 
comment,  but  Chad's  heart  got  bitter  as  gall  as 
he  listened.  And  this  had  happened  to  the  Deans 
while  he  was  gone  to  serve  them.  But  the  bloody 
Commandant  of  the  State  would  be  removed  from 
power — that  much  good  had  been  done — as  Chad 
learned  when  he  presented  himself,  with  a  black 
face,  to  his  general. 

"I  could  not  help  it,"  said  the  General,  quickly. 
"He  seems  to  have  hated  the  Deans."  And  again 
read  the  despatches  slowly.  "You  have  done  good 
work.  There  will  be  less  trouble  now."  Then  he 
paused.  "I  have  had  a  letter  from  General  Grant. 
He  wants  you  on  his  staff."  Again  he  paused,  and 
it  took  the  three  past  years  of  discipline  to  help 
Chad  keep  his  self-control.  'That  is,  if  I  have 
nothing  particular  for  you  to  do.  He  seems  to 
know  what  you  have  done  and  to  suspect  that  there 
may  be  something  more  here  for  you  to  do.  He's 
right.  I  want  you  to  destroy  Daws  Dillon  and 
his  band.  There  will  be  no  peace  until  he  is  out 
of  the  way.  You  know  the  mountains  better  than 
anybody.  You  are  the  man  for  the  work.  You 
will  take  one  company  from  Wolford's  regiment 
—he  has  been  reinstated,  you  know — and  go  at 
once.  When  you  have  finished  that — you  can  go 

346 


AFTER   DAWS   DILLON— GUERILLA 

to  General  Grant."  The  General  smiled.  "You 
are  rather  young  to  be  so  near  a  major — perhaps." 

A  major!  The  quick  joy  of  the  thought  left 
him  when  he  went  down  the  stairs  to  the  portico 
and  saw  Harry  Dean's  thin,  sad  face,  and  thought 
of  the  new  grave  in  the  Deans'  garden  and  those 
two  lonely  women  in  exile.  There  was  one  small 
grain  of  consolation.  It  was  his  old  enemy,  Daws 
Dillon,  who  had  slain  Joel  Turner;  Daws  who  had 
almost  ruined  Major  Buford  and  had  sent  him  to 
prison — Daws  had  played  no  small  part  in  the  sor 
rows  of  the  Deans,  and  on  the  heels  of  Daws  Dillon 
he  soon  would  be. 

"I  suppose  I  am  to  go  with  you,"  said  Harry. 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Chad,  startled;  "how  did  you 
know?" 

"I  didn't  know.  How  far  is  Dillon's  hiding- 
place  from  where  Morgan  is?" 

"Across  the  mountains."  Chad  understood  sud 
denly.  "You  won't  have  to  go,"  he  said  quickly. 

"I'll  go  where  I  am  ordered,"  said  Harry  Dean. 


347 


XXVI 

BROTHER   AGAINST    BROTHER   AT    LAST 

TT  was  the  first  warm  day  of  spring  and  the  sun- 
shine  was  very  soothing  to  Melissa  as  she  sat 
on  the  old  porch  early  in  the  afternoon.  Perhaps 
it  was  a  memory  of  childhood,  perhaps  she  was 
thinking  of  the  happy  days  she  and  Chad  had 
spent  on  the  river  bank  long  ago,  and  perhaps  it 
was  the  sudden  thought  that,  with  the  little  they 
had  to  eat  in  the  house  and  that  little  the  same 
three  times  a  day,  week  in  and  week  out,  Mother 
Turner,  who  had  been  ailing,  would  like  to  have 
some  fish;  perhaps  it  was  the  primitive  hunting 
instinct  that,  on  such  a  day,  sets  a  country  boy's 
fingers  itching  for  a  squirrel  rifle  or  a  cane  fishing- 
pole,  but  she  sprang  from  her  seat,  leaving  old 
Jack  to  doze  on  the  porch,  and,  in  half  an  hour, 
was  crouched  down  behind  a  boulder  below  the 
river  bend,  dropping  a  wriggling  worm  into  a 
dark,  still  pool.  As  she  sat  there,  contented  and 
luckless,  the  sun  grew  so  warm  that  she  got  drowsy 
and  dozed — how  long  she  did  not  know — but  she 
awoke  with  a  start  and  with  a  frightened  sense 
that  someone  was  near  her,  though  she  could  hear 

348 


BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER  AT  LAST 

no  sound.  But  she  lay  still — her  heart  beating 
high — and  so  sure  that  her  instinct  was  true  that 
she  was  not  even  surprised  when  she  heard  a  voice 
in  the  thicket  above — a  low  voice,  but  one  she 
knew  perfectly  well: 

"  I  tell  you  he's  a-comin'  up  the  river  now.  He's 
a-goin'  to  stay  with  ole  Ham  Blake  ter-night  over 
the  mountain  an'  he'll  be  a-comin'  through  Hurri 
cane  Gap  'bout  daylight  ter-morrer  or  next  day, 
shore.  He's  got  a  lot  o'  men,  but  we  can  layway 
'em  in  the  Gap  an'  git  away  all  right."  It  was 
Tad  Dillon  speaking — Daws  Dillon,  his  brother, 
answered : 

"I  don't  want  to  kill  anybody  but  that  damned 
Chad — Captain  Chad  Buford,  he  calls  hisself." 

"Well,  we  can  git  him  all  right.  I  heerd  that 
they  was  a-lookin'  fer  us  an'  was  goin'  to  ketch 
us  if  they  could." 

"I  wish  I  knowed  that  was  so,"  said  Daws  with 
an  oath.  "Nary  a  one  of  'em  would  git  away 
alive  if  I  just  knowed  it  was  so.  But  we'll  git 
Captain  Chad  Buford,  shore  as  hell!  You  go  tell 
the  boys  to  guard  the  Gap  ter-night.  They  mought 
come  through  afore  day."  And  then  the  noise  of 
their  footsteps  fainted  out  of  hearing  and  Melissa 
rose  and  sped  back  to  the  house. 

From  behind  a  clump  of  bushes  above  where 
she  had  sat,  rose  the  gigantic  figure  of  Rebel  Jerry 
Dillon.  He  looked  after  the  flying  girl  with  a 

349 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM   COME 

grim  smile  and  then  dropped  his  great  bulk  down 
on  the  bed  of  moss  where  he  had  been  listening 
to  the  plan  of  his  enemies  and  kinsmen.  Jerry  had 
made  many  expeditions  over  from  Virginia  lately 
and  each  time  he  had  gone  back  with  a  new  notch 
on  the  murderous  knife  that  he  carried  in  his  belt. 
He  had  but  two  personal  enemies  alive  now — 
Daws  Dillon,  who  had  tried  to  have  him  shot,  and 
his  own  brother,  Yankee  Jake.  This  was  the  sec 
ond  time  he  had  been  over  for  Daws,  and  after 
his  first  trip  he  had  persuaded  Dan  to  ask  permis 
sion  from  General  Morgan  to  take  a  company  into 
Kentucky  and  destroy  Daws  and  his  band,  and 
Morgan  had  given  him  leave,  for  Federals  and 
Confederates  were  chasing  down  these  guerillas 
now — sometimes  even  joining  forces  to  further 
their  common  purpose.  Jerry  had  been  slipping 
through  the  woods  after  Daws,  meaning  to  crawl 
close  enough  to  kill  him  and,  perhaps,  Tad  Dillon, 
too,  if  necessary,  but  after  hearing  their  plan  he  had 
let  them  go,  for  a  bigger  chance  might  be  at  hand. 
If  Chad  Buford  was  in  the  mountains  looking  for 
Daws,  Yankee  Jake  was  with  him.  If  he  killed 
Daws  now,  Chad  and  his  men  would  hear  of  his 
death  and  would  go  back,  most  likely — and  that 
was  the  thought  that  checked  his  finger  on  the 
trigger  of  his  pistol.  Another  thought  now  lifted 
him  to  his  feet  with  surprising  quickness  and  sent 
him  on  a  run  down  the  river  where  his  horse  was 

35° 


BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER  AT  LAST 

hitched  in  the  bushes.  He  would  go  over  the 
mountain  for  Dan.  He  could  lead  Dan  and  his 
men  to  Hurricane  Gap  by  daylight.  Chad  Buford 
could  fight  it  out  with  Daws  and  his  gang,  and  he 
and  Dan  would  fight  it  out  with  the  men  who  won 
— no  matter  whether  Yankees  or  guerillas.  And 
a  grim  smile  stayed  on  Rebel  Jerry's  face  as  he 
climbed. 

On  the  porch  of  the  Turner  cabin  sat  Melissa 
with  her  hands  clinched  and  old  Jack's  head  in 
her  lap.  There  was  no  use  worrying  Mother  Tur 
ner — she  feared  even  to  tell  her — but  what  should 
she  do  ?  She  might  boldly  cross  the  mountain 
now,  for  she  was  known  to  be  a  rebel,  but  the  Dil 
lons  knowing,  too,  how  close  Chad  had  once  been 
to  the  Turners  might  suspect  and  stop  her.  No, 
if  she  went  at  all,  she  must  go  after  nightfall— 
but  how  would  she  get  away  from  Mother  Tur 
ner,  and  how  could  she  make  her  way,  undetected, 
through  Hurricane  Gap  ?  The  cliffs  were  so  steep 
and  close  together  in  one  place  that  she  could 
hardly  pass  more  than  forty  feet  from  the  road 
on  either  side  and  she  could  not  pass  that  close  to 
pickets  and  not  be  heard.  Her  brain  ached  with 
planning  and  she  was  so  absorbed  as  night  came 
on  that  several  times  old  Mother  Turner  queru 
lously  asked  what  was  ailing  her  and  why  she  did 
not  pay  more  heed  to  her  work,  and  the  girl  an 
swered  her  patiently  and  went  on  with  her  plan- 

351 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM   COME 

ning.  Before  dark,  she  knew  what  she  would  do, 
and  after  the  old  mother  was  asleep,  she  rose  softly 
and  slipped  out  the  door  without  awakening  even 
old  Jack,  and  went  to  the  barn,  where  she  got  the 
sheep-bell  that  old  Beelzebub  used  to  wear  and 
with  the  clapper  caught  in  one  hand,  to  keep  the 
bell  from  tinkling,  she  went  swiftly  down  the  road 
toward  Hurricane  Gap.  Several  times  she  had  to 
dart  into  the  bushes  while  men  on  horseback  rode 
by  her,  and  once  she  came  near  being  caught  by 
three  men  on  foot — all  hurrying  at  Daws  Dillon's 
order  to  the  Gap  through  which  she  must  go. 
When  the  road  turned  from  the  river,  she  wTent 
slowly  along  the  edge  of  it,  so  that  if  discovered, 
she  could  leap  with  one  spring  into  the  bushes. 
It  was  raining — a  cold  drizzle  that  began  to 
chill  her  and  set  her  to  coughing  so  that  she  was 
half  afraid  that  she  might  disclose  herself.  At  the 
mouth  of  the  Gap  she  saw  a  fire  on  one  side  of  the 
road  and  could  hear  talking,  but  she  had  no  dif 
ficulty  passing  it,  on  the  other  side.  But  on,  where 
the  Gap  narrowed — there  was  the  trouble.  It 
must  have  been  an  hour  before  midnight  when  she 
tremblingly  neared  the  narrow  defile.  The  rain 
had  ceased,  and  as  she  crept  around  a  boulder  she 
could  see,  by  the  light  of  the  moon  between  two 
black  clouds,  two  sentinels  beyond.  The  crisis 
was  at  hand  now.  She  slipped  to  one  side  of  the 
road,  climbed  the  cliff  as  high  as  she  could  and 

352 


BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER  AT  LAST 

crept  about  it.  She  was  past  one  picket  now,  and 
in  her  eagerness  one  foot  slipped  and  she  half  fell. 
She  almost  held  her  breath  and  lay  still. 

"I  hear  somethin'  up  thar  in  the  bresh,"  shouted 
the  second  picket.  "Halt!" 

Melissa  tinkled  the  sheep-bell  and  pushed  a  bush 
to  and  fro  as  though  a  sheep  or  a  cow  might 
be  rubbing  itself,  and  the  picket  she  had  passed 
laughed  aloud. 

"Coin'  to  shoot  ole  Sally  Perkins's  cow,  air 
you  ?"  he  said,  jeeringly.  "  Yes,  I  heerd  her/'  he 
added,  lying;  for,  being  up  all  the  night  before, 
he  had  drowsed  at  his  post.  A  moment  later,  Me 
lissa  moved  on,  making  considerable  noise  and 
tinkling  her  bell  constantly.  She  was  near  the  top 
now  and  when  she  peered  out  through  the  bushes, 
no  one  was  in  sight  and  she  leaped  into  the  road 
and  fled  down  the  mountain.  At  the  foot  of  the 
spur  another  ringing  cry  smote  the  darkness  in 
front  of  her: 

"Halt!     Who  goes  there?" 

"Don't  shoot!"  she  cried,  weakly.  "It's  only 
me." 

"Advance,  'Me,'"  said  the  picket,  astonished 
to  hear  a  woman's  voice.  And  then  into  the  light 
of  his  fire  stepped  a  shepherdess  with  a  sheep-bell 
in  her  hand,  with  a  beautiful,  pale,  distressed  face, 
a  wet,  clinging  dress,  and  masses  of  yellow  hair 
surging  out  of  the  shawl  over  her  head.  The 

353 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

startled  picket  dropped  the  butt  of  his  musket  to 
the  ground  and  stared. 

"I  want  to  see  Ch — -,  your  captain,"  she  said, 
timidly. 

"All  right,"  said  the  soldier,  courteously.  "He's 
just  below  there  and  I  guess  he's  up.  We  are  get- 
ting  ready  to  start  now.  Come  along. " 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Melissa,  hurriedly.  "I  can't 
go  down  there. "  It  had  just  struck  her  that  Chad 
must  not  see  her;  but  the  picket  thought  she  natu 
rally  did  not  wish  to  face  a  lot  of  soldiers  in  her 
bedraggled  and  torn  dress,  and  he  said  quickly: 

"All  right.  Give  me  your  message  and  I'll  take 
it  to  him."  He  smiled.  "You  can  wait  here  and 
stand  guard." 

Melissa  told  him  hurriedly  how  she  had  come 
over  the  mountain  and  what  was  going  on  over 
there,  and  the  picket  with  a  low  whistle  started 
down  toward  his  camp  without  another  word. 

Chad  could  not  doubt  the  accuracy  of  the  in 
formation — the  picket  had  names  and  facts. 

"A  girl,  you  say?" 

"Yes,  sir" — the  soldier  hesitated — "and  a  very 
pretty  one,  too.  She  came  over  the  mountain 
alone  and  on  foot  through  this  darkness.  She 
passed  the  pickets  on  the  other  side — pretending 
to  be  a  sheep.  She  had  a  bell  in  her  hand."  Chad 
smiled — he  knew  that  trick. 

"Where  is  she?" 

354 


BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER  AT  LAST 

"She's  standing  guard  for  me." 

The  picket  turned  at  a  gesture  from  Chad  and 
led  the  way.  They  found  no  Melissa.  She  had 
heard  Chad's  voice  and  fled  up  the  mountain. 
Before  daybreak  she  was  descending  the  moun 
tain  on  the  other  side,  along  the  same  way,  tinkling 
her  sheep-bell  and  creeping  past  the  pickets.  It 
was  raining  again  now  and  her  cold  had  grown 
worse.  Several  times  she  had  to  muffle  her  face 
into  her  shawl  to  keep  her  cough  from  betraying 
her.  As  she  passed  the  ford  below  the  Turner 
cabin,  she  heard  the  splash  of  many  horses  crossing 
the  river  and  she  ran  on,  frightened  and  wonder 
ing.  Before  day  broke  she  had  slipped  into  her 
bed  without  arousing  Mother  Turner,  and  she  did 
not  get  up  that  day,  but  lay  ill  abed. 

The  splashing  of  those  many  horses  was  made 
by  Captain  Daniel  Dean  and  his  men,  guided  by 
Rebel  Jerry.  High  on  the  mountain  side  they  hid 
their  horses  in  a  ravine  and  crept  toward  the  Gap 
on  foot — so  that  while  Daws  with  his  gang  waited 
for  Chad,  the  rebels  lay  in  the  brush  waiting  for 
him.  Dan  was  merry  over  the  prospect: 

"We  will  just  let  them  fight  it  out,"  he  said, 
"and  then  we'll  dash  in  and  gobble  'em  both  up. 
That  was  a  fine  scheme  of  yours,  Jerry." 

Rebel  Jerry  smiled :  there  was  one  thing  he  had 
not  told  his  captain — who  those  rebels  were.  Pui- 
posely  he  had  kept  that  fact  hidden.  He  had  seen 

355 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Dan  purposely  refrain  from  killing  Chad  Buford 
once  and  he  feared  that  Dan  might  think  his 
brother  Harry  was  among  the  Yankees.  All  this 
Rebel  Jerry  failed  to  understand,  and  he  wanted 
nothing  known  now  that  might  stay  anybody's 
hand.  Dawn  broke  and  nothing  happened.  Not 
a  shot  rang  out  and  only  the  smoke  of  the  gue 
rillas'  fire  showed  in  the  peaceful  mouth  of  the 
Gap.  Dan  wanted  to  attack  the  guerillas,  but 
Jerry  persuaded  him  to  wait  until  he  could  learn 
how  the  land  lay,  and  disappeared  in  the  bushes. 
At  noon  he  came  back. 

'The  Yankees  have  found  out  Daws  is  thar  in 
the  Gap,"  he  said,  "an*  they  are  goin'  to  slip  over 
before  day  ter-morrer  and  s'prise  him.  Hit  don't 
make  no  difference  to  us,  which  s'prises  which— 
does  it  ? " 

So  the  rebels  kept  hid  through  the  day  in  the 
bushes  on  the  mountain  side,  and  when  Chad  slipped 
through  the  Gap  next  morning,  before  day,  and 
took  up  the  guerilla  pickets,  Dan  had  moved  into 
the  same  Gap  from  the  other  side,  and  was  lying 
in  the  bushes  with  his  men,  near  the  guerillas'  fire, 
waiting  for  the  Yankees  to  make  their  attack.  He 
had  not  long  to  wait.  At  the  first  white  streak  of 
dawn  overhead,  a  shout  rang  through  the  woods 
from  the  Yankees  to  the  startled  guerillas. 

"Surrender!"    A  fusillade  followed.    Again: 

"Surrender!"    and   there  was  a  short  silence, 

356 


BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER  AT  LAS7 

broken  by  low  curses  from  the  guerillas,  and  one 
stern  Yankee  voice  giving  short,  quick  orders. 
The  guerillas  had  given  up.  Rebel  Jerry  moved 
restlessly  at  Dan's  side  and  Dan  cautioned  him. 

"Wait!  Let  them  have  time  to  disarm  the 
prisoners,"  he  whispered. 

"Now,"  he  added,  a  little  while  later — "creep 
quietly,  boys." 

Forward  they  went  like  snakes,  creeping  to  the 
edge  of  the  brush  whence  they  could  see  the  sullen 
guerillas  grouped  on  one  side  of  the  fire — their 
arms  stacked,  while  a  tall  figure  in  blue  moved 
here  and  there,  and  gave  orders  in  a  voice  that  all 
at  once  seemed  strangely  familiar  to  Dan. 

"Now,  boys,"  he  said,  half  aloud,  "give  'em  a 
volley  and  charge." 

At  his  word  there  was  a  rattling  fusillade,  and 
then  the  rebels  leaped  from  the  bushes  and  dashed 
on  the  astonished  Yankees  and  their  prisoners.  It 
was  pistol  to  pistol  at  first  and  then  they  closed  to 
knife  thrust  and  musket  butt,  hand  to  hand — in 
a  cloud  of  smoke.  At  the  first  fire  from  the  rebels 
Chad  saw  his  prisoner,  Daws  Dillon,  leap  for  the 
stacked  arms  and  disappear.  A  moment  later,  as 
he  was  emptying  his  pistol  at  his  charging  foes, 
he  felt  a  bullet  clip  a  lock  of  hair  from  the  back 
of  his  head  and  he  turned  to  see  Daws  on  the  far 
thest  edge  of  the  firelight  levelling  his  pistol  for 
another  shot  before  he  ran.  Like  lightning  he 

357 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

wheeled  and  when  his  finger  pulled  the  trigger, 
Daws  sank  limply,  his  grinning,  malignant  face 
sickening  as  he  fell. 

The  taU  fellow  in  blue  snapped  his  pistol  at 
Dan,  and  as  Dan,  whose  pistol,  too,  was  empty, 
sprang  forward  and  closed  with  him,  he  heard  a 
triumphant  yell  behind  him  and  Rebel  Jerry's 
huge  figure  flashed  past  him.  With  the  same 
glance  he  saw  among  the  Yankees  another  giant 
— who  looked  like  another  Jerry — saw  his  face 
grow  ghastly  with  fear  when  Jerry's  yell  rose, 
and  then  grow  taut  with  ferocity  as  he  tugged 
at  his  sheath  to  meet  the  murderous  knife  flash 
ing  toward  him.  The  terrible  Dillon  twins  were 
come  together  at  last,  and  Dan  shuddered,  but  he 
saw  no  more,  for  he  was  busy  with  the  lithe  Yan 
kee  in  whose  arms  he  was  closed.  As  they  strug 
gled,  Dan  tried  to  get  his  knife  and  the  Yankee 
tugged  for  his  second  pistol — each  clasping  the 
other's  wrist.  Not  a  sound  did  they  make  nor 
could  either  see  the  other's  face,  for  Dan  had  his 
chin  in  his  opponent's  breast  and  was  striving  to 
bend  him  backward.  He  had  clutched  the  Yan 
kee's  right  hand,  as  it  went  back  for  his  pistol, 
just  as  the  Yankee  had  caught  his  right  in  front, 
feeling  for  his  knife.  The  advantage  would  have 
been  all  Dan's  except  that  the  Yankee  suddenly 
loosed  his  wrist  and  gripped  him  tight  about  the 
body  in  an  underhold,  so  that  Dan  could  not  whirl 

358 


BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER  AT  LAST 

him  round;  but  he  could  twist  that  wrist  and 
twist  it  he  did,  with  both  hands  and  all  his  strength. 
Once  the  Yankee  gave  a  smothered  groan  of  pain 
and  Dan  heard  him  grit  his  teeth  to  keep  it  back. 
The  smoke  had  lifted  now,  and,  when  they  fell, 
it  was  in  the  light  of  the  fire.  The  Yankee  had 
thrown  him  with  a  knee-trick  that  Harry  used  to 
try  on  him  when  they  were  boys,  but  something 
about  the  Yankee  snapped,  as  they  fell,  and  he 
groaned  aloud.  Clutching  him  by  the  throat,  Dan 
threw  him  off — he  could  get  at  his  knife  now. 

"Surrender!"    he  said,  hoarsely. 

His  answer  was  a  convulsive  struggle  and  then 
the  Yankee  lay  still. 

"Surrender!"  said  Dan  again,  lifting  his  knife 
above  the  Yankee's  breast,  "or,  damn  you,  I'll— 
The  Yankee  had  turned  his  face  weakly  toward  the 
fire,  and  Dan,  with  a  cry  of  horror,  threw  his  knife 
away  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  Straightway  the  Yan 
kee's  closed  eyes  opened  and  he  smiled  faintly. 

"Why,  Dan,  is  that  you  ?"  he  asked.  "I  thought 
it  would  come,"  he  added,  quietly,  and  then  Harry 
Dean  lapsed  into  unconsciousness. 

Thus,  at  its  best,  this  fratricidal  war  was  being 
fought  out  that  daybreak  in  one  little  hollow  of  the 
Kentucky  mountains  and  thus,  at  its  worst,  it  was 
being  fought  out  in  another  little  hollow  scarcely 
twenty  yards  away,  where  the  giant  twins — Rebel 
T^rry  and  Yankee  Jake — who  did  know  they  were 

359 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

brothers,  sought  each  other's  lives  in  mutual  mis 
conception  and  mutual  hate. 

There  were  a  dozen  dead  Federals  and  guerillas 
around  the  fire,  and  among  them  was  Daws  Dil 
lon  with  the  pallor  of  death  on  his  face  and  the 
hate  that  life  had  written  there  still  clinging  to 
it  like  a  shadow.  As  Dan  bent  tenderly  over  his 
brother  Harry,  two  soldiers  brought  in  a  huge  body 
from  the  bushes,  and  he  turned  to  see  Rebel  Jerry 
Dillon.  There  were  a  half  a  dozen  rents  in  his 
uniform  and  a  fearful  slash  under  his  chin — but 
he  was  breathing  still.  Chad  Buford  had  escaped, 
and  so  had  Yankee  Jake. 


360 


XXVII 

AT  THE    HOSPITAL   OF   MORGANA    MEN 

TN  May,  Grant  simply  said — Forward!  The 
day  he  crossed  the  Rapidan,  he  said  it  to 
Sherman  down  in  Georgia.  After  the  battle  of  the 
Wilderness  he  said  it  again,  and  the  last  brutal 
resort  of  hammering  down  the  northern  buttress 
and  sea-wall  of  the  rebellion — old  Virginia — and 
Atlanta,  the  keystone  of  the  Confederate  arch, 
was  well  under  way.  Throughout  those  bloody 
days  Chad  was  with  Grant  and  Harry  Dean  was 
with  Sherman  on  his  terrible  trisecting  march  to 
the  sea.  For,  after  the  fight  between  Rebels  and 
Yankees  and  Daws  Dillon's  guerilla  band,  over  in 
Kentucky,  Dan,  coming  back  from  another  raid 
into  the  Bluegrass,  had  found  his  brother  gone. 
Harry  had  refused  to  accept  a  parole  and  had 
escaped.  Not  a  man,  Dan  was  told,  fired  a  shot  at 
him,  as  he  ran.  One  soldier  raised  his  musket,  but 
Renfrew  the  Silent  struck  the  muzzle  upward. 

In  September,  Atlanta  fell  and,  in  that  same 
month,  Dan  saw  his  great  leader,  John  Morgan, 
dead  in  Tennessee.  In  December,  the  Confed-> 
eracy  toppled  at  the  west  under  Thomas's  blows 

361 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

at  Nashville.  In  the  spring  of  '65,  one  hundred 
and  thirty-five  thousand  wretched,  broken-down 
rebels,  from  Richmond  to  the  Rio  Grande,  con 
fronted  Grant's  million  men,  and  in  April,  Five 
Forks  was  the  beginning  of  the  final  end  every 
where. 

At  midnight,  Captain  Daniel  Dean,  bearer  of 
dispatches  to  the  great  Confederate  General  in 
Virginia,  rode  out  of  abandoned  Richmond  with 
the  cavalry  of  young  Fitzhugh  Lee.  They  had 
threaded  their  way  amid  troops,  trains,  and  ar 
tillery  across  the  bridge.  The  city  \vas  on  fire. 
By  its  light,  the  stream  of  humanity  was  pouring 
out  of  town — Davis  and  his  cabinet,  citizens,  sol 
diers,  down  to  the  mechanics  in  the  armories  and 
workshops.  The  chief  concern  with  all  was  the 
same,  a  little  to  eat  for  a  few  days;  for,  with  the 
morning,  the  enemy  would  come  and  Confederate 
money  would  be  as  mist.  Afar  off  the  little  fleet 
of  Confederate  gunboats  blazed  and  the  thunder 
ing  explosions  of  their  magazines  split  the  clear 
air.  Freight  depots  with  supplies  were  burning. 
Plunderers  were  spreading  the  fires  and  slipping 
like  ghouls  through  red  light  and  black  shadows. 
At  daybreak  the  last  retreating  gun  rumbled  past 
and,  at  sunrise,  Dan  looked  back  from  the  hills  on 
the  smoking  and  deserted  city  and  Grant's  blue 
lines  sweeping  into  it. 

Once  only  he  saw  his  great  chief — the  next 
362 


AT  THE  HOSPITAL  OF  MORGAN'S  MEN 

morning  before  day,  when  he  rode  through  the 
chill  mist  and  darkness  to  find  the  head-quarters 
of  the  commanding  General — two  little  fires  of 
rubbish  and  two  ambulances — with  Lee  lying  on 
a  blanket  under  the  open  sky.  He  rose,  as  Dan 
drew  near,  and  the  firelight  fell  full  on  his  bronzed 
and  mournful  face.  He  looked  so  sad  and  so 
noble  that  the  boy's  heart  was  wrenched,  and  as 
Dan  turned  away,  he  said,  brokenly: 

"General,  I  am  General  Dean's  son,  and  I  want 
to  thank  you—  He  could  get  no  farther.  Lee 
laid  one  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Be  as  good  a  man  as  your  father  was,  my 
boy,"  he  said,  and  Dan  rode  back  the  pitiable  way 
through  the  rear  of  that  noble  army  of  Virginia- 
through  ranks  of  tattered,  worn,  hungry  soldiers, 
among  the  broken  debris  of  wagons  and  abandoned 
guns,  past  skeleton  horses  and  skeleton  men. 

All  hope  was  gone,  but  Fitz  Lee  led  his  cavalry 
through  the  Yankee  lines  and  escaped.  In  that 
flight  Daniel  Dean  got  his  only  wound  in  the  war 
—a  bullet  through  the  shoulder.  When  the  sur 
render  came,  Fitz  Lee  gave  up,  too,  and  led  back 
his  command  to  get  Grant's  generous  terms.  But 
all  his  men  did  not  go  with  him,  and  among  the 
cavalrymen  who  went  on  toward  southwestern  Vir 
ginia  was  Dan — making  his  way  back  to  Richard 
Hunt — for  now  that  gallant  Morgan  was  dead, 
Hunt  was  general  of  the  old  command. 

363 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

Behind,  at  Appomattox,  Chad  was  with  Grant. 
He  saw  the  surrender — saw  Lee  look  toward  his 
army,  when  he  came  down  the  steps  after  he  had 
given  up,  saw  him  strike  his  hands  together  three 
times  and  ride  Traveller  away  through  the  pro 
found  and  silent  respect  of  his  enemies  and  the 
tearful  worship  of  his  own  men.  And  Chad  got 
permission  straightway  to  go  back  to  Ohio,  and 
he  mustered  out  with  his  old  regiment,  and  he, 
too,  started  back  through  Virginia. 

Meanwhile,  Dan  was  drawing  near  the  moun 
tains.  He  was  worn  out  when  he  reached  Abing- 
don.  The  wound  in  his  shoulder  was  festering  and 
he  was  in  a  high  fever.  At  the  camp  of  Morgan's 
Men  he  found  only  a  hospital  left — for  General 
Hunt  had  gone  southward — and  a  hospital  was 
what  he  most  needed  now.  As  he  lay,  unconscious 
with  fever,  next  day,  a  giant  figure,  lying  near, 
turned  his  head  and  stared  at  the  boy.  It  was 
Rebel  Jerry  Dillon,  helpless  from  a  sabre  cut  and 
frightfully  scarred  by  the  fearful  wounds  his 
brother,  Yankee  Jake,  had  given  him.  And  thus, 
Chadwick  Buford,  making  for  the  Ohio,  saw  the 
two  strange  messmates,  a  few  days  later,  when 
he  rode  into  the  deserted  rebel  camp. 

All  was  over.  Red  Mars  had  passed  beyond 
the  horizon  and  the  white  Star  of  Peace  already 
shone  faintly  on  the  ravaged  South.  The  shat 
tered  remnants  of  Morgan's  cavalry,  pall-bearers 

364 


AT  THE  HOSPITAL  OF  MORGAN'S  MEN 

of  the  Lost  Cause — had  gone  South — bare-footed 
and  in  rags — to  guard  Jefferson  Davis  to  safety, 
and  Chad's  heart  was  wrung  when  he  stepped  into 
the  little  hospital  they  had  left  behind — a  space 
cleared  into  a  thicket  of  rhododendron.  There 
was  not  a  tent — there  was  little  medicine — little- 
food.  The  drizzling  rain  dropped  on  the  group 
of  ragged  sick  men  from  the  branches  above  them. 
Nearly  all  were  youthful,  and  the  youngest  was  a 
mere  boy,  who  lay  delirious  with  his  head  on  the 
root  of  a  tree.  As  Chad  stood  looking,  the  boy 
opened  his  eyes  and  his  mouth  twitched  with 
pain. 

"Hello,  you  damned  Yankee."  Again  his 
mouth  twitched  and  again  the  old  dare-devil  light 
that  Chad  knew  so  well  kindled  in  his  hazy  eyes. 

"I  said,"  he  repeated,  distinctly,  "Hello,  you 
damned  Yank.  Damned  Yank  I  said."  Chad 
beckoned  to  two  men. 

"Go  bring  a  stretcher." 

The  men  shook  their  heads  with  a  grim  smile 
— they  had  no  stretcher. 

The  boy  talked  dreamily. 

"Say,  Yank,  didn't  we  give  you  hell  in — oh, 
well,  in  lots  o'  places.  But  you've  got  me."  The 
two  soldiers  were  lifting  him  in  their  arms.  "Go- 
in'  to  take  me  to  prison  ?  Goin'  to  take  me  out 
to  shoot  me,  Yank  ?  You  are  a  damned  Yank." 
A  hoarse  growl  rose  behind  them  and  the  giant 

365 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

lifted  himself  on  one  elbow,  swaying  his  head 
from  side  to  side. 

"Let  that  boy  alone!"  Dan  nodded  back  at 
him  confidently. 

'That's  all  right,  Jerry.  This  Yank's  a  friend 
of  mine."  His  brow  wrinkled.  "At  any  rate  he 
looks  like  somebody  I  know.  He's  goin'  to  give 
me  something  to  eat  and  get  me  well — like  hell," 
he  added  to  himself- — passing  off  into  unconscious 
ness  again.  Chad  had  the  lad  carried  to  his  own 
tent,  had  him  stripped,  bathed,  and  bandaged  and 
stood  looking  down  at  him.  It  was  hard  to  be 
lieve  that  the  broken,  aged  youth  was  the  red- 
cheeked,  vigorous  lad  whom  he  had  known  as 
Daniel  Dean.  He  was  ragged,  starved,  all  but 
bare-footed,  wounded,  sick,  and  yet  he  was  as  un 
daunted,  as  defiant,  as  when  he  charged  with  Mor 
gan's  dare-devils  at  the  beginning  of  the  war. 
Then  Chad  went  back  to  the  hospital — for  a 
blanket  and  some  medicine. 

"They  are  friends,"  he  said  to  the  Confederate 
surgeon,  pointing  at  a  huge  gaunt  figure. 

"I  reckon  that  big  fellow  has  saved  that  boy's 
life  a  dozen  times.  Yes,  they're  mess-mates." 
And  Chad  stood  looking  down  at  Jerry  Dillon, 
one  of  the  giant  twins — whose  name  was  a  terror 
throughout  the  mountains  of  the  middle  south. 
Then  he  turned  and  the  surgeon  followed.  There 
was  a  rustle  of  branches  on  one  side  when  they 

366 


AT  THE  HOSPITAL  OF  MORGAN'S  MEN 

were  gone,  and  at  the  sound  the  wounded  man 
lifted  his  head.  The  branches  parted  and  the  ox- 
like  face  of  Yankee  Jake  peered  through.  For 
a  full  minute,  the  two  brothers  stared  at  each 
other. 

"I  reckon  you  got  me,  Jake,"  said  Jerry. 

"I  been  lookin'  fer  ye  a  long  while,"  said  Jake, 
simply,  and  he  smiled  strangely  as  he  moved  slow 
ly  forward  and  looked  down  at  his  enemy — his 
heavy  head  wagging  from  side  to  side.  Jerry 
was  fumbling  at  his  belt.  The  big  knife  flashed, 
but  Jake's  hand  was  as  quick  as  its  gleam,  and 
he  had  the  wrist  that  held  it.  His  great  fingers 
crushed  together,  the  blade  dropped  on  the 
ground,  and  again  the  big  twins  looked  at  each 
other.  Slowly,  Yankee  Jake  picked  up  the  knife. 
The  other  moved  not  a  muscle  and  in  his  fierce 
eyes  was  no  plea  for  mercy.  The  point  of  the 
blade  moved  slowly  down — down  over  the  rebel's 
heart,  and  was  thrust  into  its  sheath  again.  Then 
Jake  let  go  the  wrist. 

"Don't  tech  it  agin,"  he  said,  and  he  strode 
away.  The  big  fellow  lay  blinking.  He  did  not 
open  his  lips  when,  in  a  moment,  Yankee  Jake 
slouched  in  with  a  canteen  of  water.  When  Chad 
came  back,  one  giant  was  drawing  on  the  other  a 
pair  of  socks.  The  other  was  still  silent  and  had 
his  face  turned  the  other  way.  Looking  up,  Jake 
met  Chad's  surprised  gaze  with  a  grin. 

367 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

A  day  later,  Dan  came  to  his  senses.  A  tent 
was  above  him,  a  heavy  blanket  was  beneath  him 
and  there  were  clothes  on  his  body  that  felt 
strangely  fresh  and  clean.  He  looked  up  to  see 
Chad's  face  between  the  flaps  of  the  tent. 

"D'you  do  this?" 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Chad.  "This  war  is 
over."  And  he  went  away  to  let  Dan  think  it  out. 
When  he  came  again,  Dan  held  out  his  hand 
silently. 


368 


XXVIII 

PALL-BEARERS    OF   THE    LOST   CAUSE 


pHE  rain  was  falling  with  a  steady  roar  when 
General  Hunt  broke  camp  a  few  days  be 
fore.  The  mountain-tops  were  black  with  thunder 
clouds,  and  along  the  muddy  road  went  Morgan's 
Men  —  most  of  them  on  mules  which  had  been 
taken  from  abandoned  wagons  when  news  of  the 
surrender  came  —  without  saddles  and  with  blind 
bridles  or  rope  halters  —  the  rest  slopping  along 
through  the  yellow  mud  on  foot  —  literally  —  for 
few  of  them  had  shoes;  they  were  on  their  way  to 
protect  Davis  and  join  Johnston,  now  that  Lee 
was  no  more.  There  was  no  murmuring,  no  fal 
tering,  and  it  touched  Richard  Hunt  to  observe 
that  they  were  now  more  prompt  to  obedience, 
when  it  was  optional  with  them  whether  they 
should  go  or  stay,  than  they  had  ever  been  in  the 
proudest  days  of  the  Confederacy. 

Threatened  from  Tennessee  and  cut  off  from 
Richmond,  Hunt  had  made  up  his  mind  to  march 
eastward  to  join  Lee,  when  the  news  of  the  sur 
render  came.  Had  the  sun  at  that  moment 
dropped  suddenly  to  the  horizon  from  the  heaven 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

above  them,  those  Confederates  would  have  been 
hardly  more  startled  or  plunged  into  deeper  de 
spair.  Crowds  of  infantry  threw  down  their  arms 
and,  with  the  rest,  all  sense  of  discipline  was  lost. 
Of  the  cavalry,  however,  not  more  than  ten  men 
declined  to  march  south,  and  out  they  moved 
through  the  drenching  rain  in  a  silence  that  was 
broken  only  with  a  single  cheer  when  ninety  men 
from  another  Kentucky  brigade  joined  them,  who, 
too,  felt  that  as  long  as  the  Confederate  Govern 
ment  survived,  there  was  work  for  them  to  do. 
So  on  they  went  to  keep  up  the  struggle,  if  the 
word  was  given,  skirmishing,  fighting  and  slip 
ping  past  the  enemies  that  were  hemming  them  in, 
on  with  Davis,  his  cabinet,  and  General  Breckin- 
ridge  to  join  Taylor  and  Forrest  in  Alabama. 
Across  the  border  of  South  Carolina,  an  irate  old 
lady  upbraided  Hunt  for  allowing  his  soldiers  to 
take  forage  from  her  barn. 

"You  are  a  gang  of  thieving  Kentuckians,"  she 
said,  hotly;  "you  are  afraid  to  go  home,  while  our 
boys  are  surrendering  decently." 

"Madam!"-— Renfrew  the  Silent  spoke — spoke 
from  the  depths  or  his  once  brilliant  jacket— 
"you  South  Carolinians  had  a  good  deal  to  say 
about  getting  up  this  war,  but  we  Kentuckians 
have  contracted  to  close  it  out." 

Then  came  the  last  Confederate  council  of  war. 
In  turn,  each  officer  spoke  of  his  men  and  of  him- 

37° 


PALL-BEARERS  OF  THE  LOST  CAUSE 

self  and  each  to  the  same  effect;  the  cause  was  lost 
and  there  was  no  use  in  prolonging  the  war. 

"We  will  give  our  lives  to  secure  your  safety, 
but  we  cannot  urge  our  men  to  struggle  against  a 
fate  that  is  inevitable,  and  perhaps  thus  forfeit  all 
hope  of  a  restoration  to  their  homes  and  friends." 

Davis  was  affable,  dignified,  calm,  undaunted. 

"I  will  hear  of  no  plan  that  is  concerned  only 
with  my  safety.  A  few  brave  men  can  prolong 
the  war  until  this  panic  has  passed,  and  they  will 
be  a  nucleus  for  thousands  more." 

The  answer  was  silence,  as  the  gaunt,  beaten 
man  looked  from  face  to  face.  He  rose  with  an 
effort. 

"I  see  all  hope  is  gone,"  he  said,  bitterly,  and 
though  his  calm  remained,  his  bearing  was  less 
erect,  his  face  was  deathly  pale  and  his  step  so 
infirm  that  he  leaned  upon  General  Breckinridge 
as  he  neared  the  door — in  the  bitterest  moment, 
perhaps,  of  his  life. 

So,  the  old  Morgan's  Men,  so  long  separated, 
were  united  at  the  end.  In  a  broken  voice  General 
Hunt  forbade  the  men  who  had  followed  him  on 
foot  three  hundred  miles  from  Virginia  to  go  far 
ther,  but  to  disperse  to  their  homes;  and  they  wept 
like  children. 

In  front  of  him  was  a  big  force  of  Federal  cav 
alry;  retreat  the  way  he  had  come  was  impossible, 
and  to  the  left,  if  he  escaped,  was  the  sea;  but 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

dauntless  Hunt  refused  to  surrender  except  at  the 
order  of  a  superior,  or  unless  told  that  all  was 
done  that  could  be  done  to  assure  the  escape  of 
his  President.  That  order  came  from  Breckin- 
ridge. 

"Surrender,"  was  the  message.  "Go  back  to 
your  homes,  I  will  not  have  one  of  these  young 
men  encounter  one  more  hazard  for  my  sake." 

That  night  Richard  Hunt  fought  out  his  fight 
with  himself,  pacing  to  and  fro  under  the  stars. 
He  had  struggled  faithfully  for  what  he  believed, 
still  believed,  and  would,  perhaps,  always  believe, 
was  right.  He  had  fought  for  the  broadest  ideal 
of  liberty  as  he  understood  it,  for  citizen,  State, 
and  nation.  The  appeal  had  gone  to  the  sword 
and  the  verdict  was  against  him.  He  would  accept 
it.  He  would  go  home,  take  the  oath  of  alle 
giance,  resume  the  law,  and,  as  an  American  citi 
zen,  do  his  duty.  He  had  no  sense  of  humiliation; 
he  had  no  apology  to  make  and  would  never  have 
— he  had  done  his  duty.  He  felt  no  bitterness, 
and  had  no  fault  to  find  with  his  foes,  who  were 
brave  and  had  done  their  duty  as  they  had  seen 
it;  for  he  granted  them  the  right  to  see  a  different 
duty  from  what  he  had  decided  was  his.  And 
that  was  all. 

Renfrew  the  Silent  was  waiting  at  the  smoulder 
ing  fire.  He  neither  looked  up  nor  made  any 
comment  when  General  Hunt  spoke  his  determina- 

372 


PALL-BEARERS  OF  THE  LOST  CAUSE 

tion.  His  own  face  grew  more  sullen  and  he 
reached  his  hand  into  his  breast  and  pulled  from 
his  faded  jacket  the  tattered  colors  that  he  once 
had  borne. 

'These  will  never  be  lowered  as  long  as  I  live," 
he  said,  "nor  afterwards  if  I  can  prevent  it." 
And  lowered  they  never  were.  On  a  little  island 
in  the  Pacific  Ocean,  this  strange  soldier,  after 
leaving  his  property  and  his  kindred  forever,  lived 
out  his  life  among  the  natives  with  this  blood 
stained  remnant  of  the  Stars  and  Bars  over  his 
hut,  and  when  he  died,  the  flag  was  hung  over  his 
grave,  and  above  that  grave  to-day  the  tattered 
emblem  still  sways  in  southern  air. 


A  week  earlier,  two  Rebels  and  two  Yankees 
started  across  the  mountain  together — Chad  and 
Dan  and  the  giant  Dillon  twins — Chad  and  Yan 
kee  Jake  afoot.  Up  Lonesome  they  went  toward 
the  shaggy  flank  of  Black  Mountain  where  the 
Great  Reaper  had  mowed  down  Chad's  first 
friends.  The  logs  of  the  cabin  were  still  stand 
ing,  though  the  roof  was  caved  in  and  the  yard 
was  a  tangle  of  undergrowth.  A  dull  pain  set 
tled  in  Chad's  breast,  while  he  looked,  and  as 
they  were  climbing  the  spur,  he  choked  when  he 
caught  sight  of  the  graves  under  the  big  poplar. 

There  was  the  little  pen  that  he  had  built  over 

373 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

his  foster-mother's  grave — still  undisturbed.  He 
said  nothing  and,  as  they  went  down  the  spur, 
across  the  river  and  up  Pine  Mountain,  he  kept 
his  gnawing  memories  to  himself.  Only  ten 
years  before,  and  he  seemed  an  old,  old  man 
now.  He  recognized  the  very  spot  where  he 
had  slept  the  first  night  after  he  ran  away  and 
awakened  to  that  fearful  never-forgotten  storm 
at  sunrise,  which  lived  in  his  memory  now  as  a 
mighty  portent  of  the  storms  of  human  passion 
that  had  swept  around  him  on  many  a  battle 
field.  There  was  the  very  tree  where  he  had 
killed  the  squirrel  and  the  rattlesnake.  It  was 
bursting  spring  now,  but  the  buds  of  laurel  and 
rhododendron  were  unbroken.  Down  Kingdom 
Come  they  went.  Here  was  where  he  had  met 
the  old  cow,  and  here  was  the  little  hill  where  Jack 
had  fought  Whizzer  and  he  had  fought  Tad  Dil 
lon  and  where  he  had  first  seen  Melissa.  Again 
the  scarlet  of  her  tattered  gown  flashed  before 
his  eyes.  At  the  bend  of  the  river  they  parted 
from  the  giant  twins.  Faithful  Jake's  face  was 
foolish  when  Chad  took  him  by  the  hand  and 
spoke  to  him,  as  man  to  man,  and  Rebel  Jerry 
turned  his  face  quickly  when  Dan  told  him  that 
he  would  never  forget  him,  and  made  him  prom 
ise  to  come  to  see  him,  if  Jerry  ever  took  an 
other  raft  down  to  the  capital.  Looking  back 
from  the  hill,  Chad  saw  them  slowly  moving 

374 


PALL-BEARERS  OF  THE  LOST  CAUSE 

along  a  path  toward  the  woods — not  looking  at 
each  other  and  speaking  not  at  all. 

Beyond  rose  the  smoke  of  the  old  Turner  cabin. 
On  the  porch  sat  the  old  Turner  mother,  her  bon 
net  in  her  hand,  her  eyes  looking  down  the  river. 
Dozing  at  her  feet  was  Jack — old  Jack.  She  had 
never  forgiven  Chad,  and  she  could  not  forgive 
him  now,  though  Chad  saw  her  eyes  soften  when 
she  looked  at  the  tattered  butternut  that  Dan  wore. 
But  Jack — half-blind  and  aged — sprang  trembling 
to  his  feet  when  he  heard  Chad's  voice  and  whim 
pered  like  a  child.  Chad  sank  on  the  porch  with 
one  arm  about  the  old  dog's  neck.  Mother  Tur 
ner  answered  all  questions  shortly. 

Melissa  had  gone  to  the  "Settlemints."  Why? 
The  old  woman  would  not  answer.  She  was  com 
ing  back,  but  she  was  ill.  She  had  never  been  well 
since  she  went  afoot,  one  cold  night,  to  warn  some 
Yankee  that  Daws  Dillon  was  after  him.  Chad 
started.  It  was  Melissa  who  had  perhaps  saved 
his  life.  Tad  Dillon  had  stepped  into  Daws's 
shoes,  and  the  war  was  still  going  on  in  the  hills. 
Tom  Turner  had  died  in  prison.  The  old  mother 
was  waiting  for  Dolph  and  Rube  to  come  back- 
she  was  looking  for  them  every  hour,  day  and 
night  She  did  not  know  what  had  become  of 
the  school-master — but  Chad  did,  and  he  told  her. 
The  school-master  had  died,  storming  breastworks 
at  Gettysburg.  The  old  woman  said  not  a  word. 

375 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Dan  was  too  weak  to  ride  now.  So  Chad  got 
Dave  Hilton,  Melissa's  old  sweetheart,  to  take 
Dixie  to  Richmond — a  little  Kentucky  town  on 
the  edge  of  the  Bluegrass — and  leave  her  there, 
and  he  bought  the  old  Turner  canoe.  She  would 
have  no  use  for  it,  Mother  Turner  said — he  could 
have  it  for  nothing;  but  when  Chad  thrust  a  ten- 
dollar  Federal  bill  into  her  hands,  she  broke  down 
and  threw  her  arms  around  him  and  cried. 

So  down  the  river  went  Chad  and  Dan — drift 
ing  with  the  tide — Chad  in  the  stern,  Dan  lying  at 
full  length,  with  his  head  on  a  blue  army-coat  and 
looking  up  at  the  over-swung  branches  and  the  sky 
and  the  clouds  above  them — down,  through  a  mist 
of  memories  for  Chad — down  to  the  capital. 

And  Harry  Dean,  too,  was  on  his  way  home 
coming  up  from  the  far  South — up  through  the 
ravaged  land  of  his  own  people,  past  homes  and 
fields  which  his  own  hands  had  helped  to  lay  waste. 


376 


XXIX 

MELISSA    AND    MARGARET 

P^HE  early  spring  sunshine  lay  like  a  benedic- 
tion  over  the  Dean  household,  for  Margaret 
and  her  mother  were  home  from  exile.  On  the 
corner  of  the  veranda  sat  Mrs.  Dean,  where  she 
always  sat,  knitting.  Under  the  big  weeping  wil 
low  in  the  garden  was  her  husband's  grave.  When 
she  was  not  seated  near  it,  she  was  there  in  the 
porch,  and  to  it  her  eyes  seemed  always  to  stray 
when  she  lifted  them  from  her  work. 

The  mail  had  just  come  and  Margaret  was  read 
ing  a  letter  from  Dan,  and,  as  she  read,  her  cheeks 
flushed. 

"He  took  me  into  his  own  tent,  mother,  and 
put  his  own  clothes  on  me  and  nursed  me  like  a 
brother.  And  now  he  is  going  to  take  me  to 
you  and  Margaret,  he  says,  and  I  shall  be  strong 
enough,  I  hope,  to  start  in  a  week.  I  shall  be  his 
friend  for  life." 

Neither  mother  nor  daughter  spoke  when  the 
girl  ceased  reading.  Only  Margaret  rose  soon 
and  walked  down  the  gravelled  walk  to  the  stile. 

377 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Beneath  the  hill,  the  creek  sparkled.  She  could 
see  the  very  pool  where  her  brothers  and  the  queer 
little  stranger  from  the  mountains  were  fishing 
the  day  he  came  into  her  life.  She  remembered 
the  indignant  heart-beat  with  which  she  had  heard 
him  call  her  "little  gal,"  and  she  smiled  now,  but 
she  could  recall  the  very  tone  of  his  voice  and  the 
steady  look  in  his  clear  eyes  when  he  offered  her 
the  perch  he  had  caught.  Even  then  his  spirit 
appealed  unconsciously  to  her,  when  he  sturdily 
refused  to  go  up  to  the  house  because  her  brother 
was  "feelin'  hard  towards  him."  How  strange 
and  far  away  all  that  seemed  now!  Up  the  creek 
and  around  the  woods  she  strolled,  deep  in  mem 
ories.  For  a  long  while  she  sat  on  a  stone  wall  in 
the  sunshine — thinking  and  dreaming,  and  it  was 
growing  late  when  she  started  back  to  the  house. 
At  the  stile,  she  turned  for  a  moment  to  look  at 
the  old  Buford  home  across  the  fields.  As  she 
looked,  she  saw  the  pike-gate  open  and  a  woman's 
figure  enter,  and  she  kept  her  eyes  idly  upon  it  as 
she  walked  on  toward  the  house.  The  woman 
came  slowly  and  hesitatingly  toward  the  yard. 
When  she  drew  nearer,  Margaret  could  see  that 
she  wore  homespun,  home-made  shoes,  and  a  poke- 
bonnet.  On  her  hands  were  yarn  half-mits,  and, 
as  she  walked,  she  pushed  her  bonnet  from  her 
eyes  with  one  hand,  first  to  one  side,  then  to  the 
other — looking  at  the  locusts  planted  along  the 

378 


MELISSA  AND  MARGARET 

avenue,  the  cedars  in  the  yard,  the  sweep  of  lawn 
overspread  with  springing  bluegrass.  At  the  yard 
gate  she  stopped,  leaning  over  it — her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  stately  white  house,  with  its  mighty  pillars. 
Margaret  was  standing  on  the  steps  now,  motion 
less  and  waiting,  and,  knowing  that  she  was  seen, 
the  woman  opened  the  gate  and  walked  up  the 
gravelled  path — never  taking  her  eyes  from  the 
figure  on  the  porch.  Straight  she  walked  to  the 
foot  of  the  steps,  and  there  she  stopped,  and, 
pushing  her  bonnet  back,  she  said,  simply: 

"Are  you  Mar-ga-ret?"  pronouncing  the  name 
slowly  and  with  great  distinctness. 

Margaret  started. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

The  girl  merely  looked  at  her — long  and  hard. 
Once  her  lips  moved: 

"Mar-ga-ret,"  and  still  she  looked.  "Do  you 
know  whar  Chad  is  ?" 

Margaret  flushed. 

"Who  are  you  ?" 

"Melissy." 

Melissa!  The  two  girls  looked  deep  into  each 
other's  eyes  and,  for  one  flashing  moment,  each 
saw  the  other's  heart — bared  and  beating — and 
Margaret  saw,  too,  a  strange  light  ebb  slowly 
from  the  other's  face  and  a  strange  shadow  follow 
slowly  after. 

"You  mean  Major  Buford?" 

379 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"I  mean  Chad.     Is  he  dead  ?" 

"No,  he  is  bringing  my  brother  home." 

"Harry?" 

"No— Dan." 

"Dan— here?" 

"Yes." 

"When?" 

"As  soon  as  my  brother  gets  well  enough  to 
travel.  He  is  wounded." 

Melissa  turned  her  face  then.  Her  mouth 
twitched  and  her  clasped  hands  were  working  in 
and  out.  Then  she  turned  again. 

"I  come  up  here  from  the  mountains,  afoot, 
jus'  to  tell  ye — to  tell  you  that  Chad  ain't  no"- 
she  stopped  suddenly,  seeing  Margaret's  quick 
flush — "Chad's  mother  was  married.  I  jus'  found 
it  out  last  week.  He  ain't  no" — she  started 
fiercely  again  and  stopped  again.  "But  I  come 
here  fer  him — not  fer  you.  You  oughtn't  to  'a' 
keered.  Hit  wouldn't  'a'  been  his  fault.  He 
never  was  the  same  after  he  come  back  from  here. 
Hit  worried  him  most  to  death,  an'  I  know  hit  was 
you — you  he  was  always  thinkin'  about.  He 
didn't  keer  'cept  fer  you."  Again  that  shadow 
came  and  deepened.  "An*  you  oughtn't  to  'a' 
keered  what  he  was — and  that's  why  I  hate  you," 
she  said,  calmly — "fer  worryin'  him  an'  bein'  so 
high-heeled  that  you  was  willin'  to  let  him  mighty 
nigh  bust  his  heart  about  somethin'  that  wasn't  his 

380 


MELISSA  AND  MARGARET 

fault.  I  come  fer  him — you  understand — fer 
him.  I  hate  you!" 

She  turned  without  another  word,  walked  slowly 
back  down  the  walk  and  through  the  gate.  Mar 
garet  stood  dazed,  helpless,  almost  frightened. 
She  heard  the  girl  cough  and  saw  now  that  she 
walked  as  if  weak  and  ill.  As  she  turned  into  the 
road,  Margaret  ran  down  the  steps  and  across  the 
fields  to  the  turnpike.  When  she  reached  the  road- 
fence  the  girl  was  coming  around  the  bend  with 
her  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  every  now  and  then 
she  would  cough  and  put  her  hand  to  her  breast. 
She  looked  up  quickly,  hearing  the  noise  ahead  of 
her,  and  stopped  as  Margaret  climbed  the  low 
stone  wall  and  sprang  down, 

"Melissa,  Melissa  I  You  mustn't  hate  me.  You 
mustn't  hate  me"  Margaret's  eyes  were  stream 
ing  and  her  voice  trembled  with  kindness.  She 
walked  up  to  the  girl  and  put  one  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  "You  are  sick.  I  know  you  are,  and 
you  must  come  back  to  the  house." 

Melissa  gave  way  then,  and  breaking  from  the 
girl's  clasp  she  leaned  against  the  stone  wall  and 
sobbed,  while  Margaret  put  her  arms  about  her 
and  waited  silently. 

"Come  now,"  she  said,  "let  me  help  you  over. 
There  now.  You  must  come  back  and  get  some 
thing  to  eat  and  lie  down."  And  Margaret  led 
Melissa  back  across  the  fields. 

381 


XXX 

PEACE 

FT  was  strange  to  Chad  that  he  should  be 
drifting  toward  a  new  life  down  the  river 
which  once  before  had  carried  him  to  a  new  world. 
The  future  then  was  no  darker  than  now,  but  he 
could  hardly  connect  himself  with  the  little  fellow 
in  coon-skin  cap  and  moccasins  who  had  floated 
down  on  a  raft  so  many  years  ago,  when  at  every 
turn  of  the  river  his  eager  eyes  looked  for  a  new 
and  thrilling  mystery. 

They  talked  of  the  long  fight,  the  two  lads, 
for,  in  spite  of  the  war-worn  look  of  them,  both 
were  still  nothing  but  boys — and  they  talked  with 
no  bitterness  of  camp  life,  night  attacks,  sur 
prises,  escapes,  imprisonment,  incidents  of  march 
and  battle.  Both  spoke  little  of  their  boyhood 
Jays  or  of  the  future.  The  pall  of  defeat  over 
hung  Dan.  To  him  the  world  seemed  to  be  near 
ing  an  end,  while  to  Chad  the  outlook  was  what 
he  had  known  all  his  life — nothing  to  begin  with 
and  everything  to  be  done.  Once  only  Dan 
voiced  his  own  trouble: 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  Chad — now  that 
382 


PEACE 

this  infernal  war  is  over  ?  Going  into  the  regular 
army  ?" 

"No,"  said  Chad,  decisively.  About  his  own 
future  Dan  volunteered  nothing — he  only  turned 
his  head  quickly  to  the  passing  woods,  as  though 
in  fear  that  Chad  might  ask  some  similar  ques 
tion,  but  Chad  was  silent.  And  thus  they  glided 
between  high  cliffs  and  down  into  the  lowlands 
until  at  last,  through  a  little  gorge  between  two 
swelling  river  hills,  Dan's  eye  caught  sight  of  an 
orchard,  a  leafy  woodland,  and  a  pasture  of  blue- 
grass.  With  a  cry  he  raised  himself  on  one  elbow. 

"Home!  I  tell  you,  Chad,  we're  getting 
home!"  He  closed  his  eyes  and  drew  the  sweet 
air  in  as  though  he  were  drinking  it  down  like 
wine.  His  eyes  were  sparkling  when  he  opened 
them  again  and  there  was  a  new  color  in  his  face. 
On  they  drifted  until,  toward  noon,  the  black  col 
umn  of  smoke  that  meant  the  capital  loomed 
against  the  horizon.  There  Mrs.  Dean  was  wait 
ing  for  them,  and  Chad  turned  his  face  aside  when 
the  mother  took  her  son  in  her  arms.  With  a  sad: 
smile  she  held  out  her  hand  to  Chad. 

''You  must  come  home  with  us,"  Mrs.  Dean 
said,  with  quiet  decision. 

"Where  is  Margaret,  mother?"  Chad  almost 
trembled  when  he  heard  the  name. 

''Margaret  couldn't  come.  She  is  not  very  well' 
and  she  is  taking  care  of  Harry." 

383 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

The  very  station  had  tragic  memories  to  Chad. 
There  was  the  long  hill  which  he  had  twice 
climbed — once  on  a  lame  foot  and  once  on  flying 
Dixie — past  the  armory  and  the  graveyard.  He 
had  seen  enough  dead  since  he  peered  through 
those  iron  gates  to  fill  a  dozen  graveyards  the  like 
in  size.  Going  up  in  the  train,  he  could  see  the  barn 
where  he  had  slept  in  the  hayloft  the  first  time 
he  came  to  the  Bluegrass,  and  the  creek-bridge 
where  Major  Buford  had  taken  him  into  his  car 
nage.  Major  Buford  was  dead.  He  had  almost 
died  in  prison,  Mrs.  Dean  said,  and  Chad  choked 
and  could  say  nothing.  Once,  Dan  began  a  series 
of  eager  questions  about  the  house  and  farm,  and 
the  servants  and  the  neighbors,  but  his  mother's 
answers  were  hesitant  and  he  stopped  short.  She, 
too,  asked  but  few  questions,  and  the  three  were 
quiet  while  the  train  rolled  on  with  little  more 
speed  than  Chad  and  Dixie  had  made  on  that  long 
ago  night-ride  to  save  Dan  and  Rebel  Jerry. 
About  that  ride  Chad  had  kept  Harry's  lips  and 
his  own  closed,  for  he  wished  no  such  appeal  as 
that  to  go  to  Margaret  Dean.  Margaret  was  not 
at  the  station  in  Lexington.  She  was  not  well, 
Rufus  said;  so  Chad  would  not  go  with  them  that 
night,  but  would  come  out  next  day. 

"I  owe  my  son's  life  to  you,  Captain  Buford," 
said  Mrs.  Dean,  with  trembling  lip,  "and  you 
must  make  our  house  your  home  while  you  are 

384 


PEACE 

here.  I  bring  that  message  to  you  from  Harry 
and  Margaret.  I  know  and  they  know  now  all 
you  have  done  for  us  and  all  you  have  tried  to  do. " 

Chad  could  hardly  speak  his  thanks.  He  would 
be  in  the  Bluegrass  only  a  few  days,  he  stammered, 
but  he  would  go  out  to  see  them  next  day.  That 
night  he  went  to  the  old  inn  where  the  Major 
had  taken  him  to  dinner.  Next  day  he  hired  ahorse 
from  the  livery  stable  where  he  had  bought  the  old 
brood  mare,  and  early  in  the  afternoon  he  rode  out 
the  broad  turnpike  in  a  nervous  tumult  of  feeling 
that  more  than  once  made  him  halt  in  the  road. 
He  wore  his  uniform,  which  was  new,  and  made 
him  uncomfortable — it  looked  too  much  like  wav 
ing  a  victorious  flag  in  the  face  of  a  beaten  enemy 
— but  it  was  the  only  stitch  of  clothes  he  had,  and 
that  he  might  not  explain. 

It  was  the  first  of  May.  Just  eight  years  be 
fore,  Chad  with  a  burning  heart  had  watched 
Richard  Hunt  gayly  dancing  with  Margaret, 
while  the  dead  chieftain,  Morgan,  gayly  fid 
dled  for  the  merry  crowd.  Now  the  sun  shone 
as  it  did  then,  the  birds  sang,  the  wind  shook 
the  happy  leaves  and  trembled  through  the  bud 
ding  heads  of  bluegrass  to  show  that  nature  had 
known  no  war  and  that  her  mood  was  never  other 
than  of  hope  and  peace.  But  there  were  no  fat 
cattle  browsing  in  the  Dean  pastures  now,  no 
flocks  of  Southdown  sheep  with  frisking  lambs. 

385 


THE    LITTLE   SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

The  worm  fences  had  lost  their  riders  and  were 
broken  down  here  and  there.  The  gate  sagged 
on  its  hinges;  the  fences  around  yard  and  garden 
and  orchard  had  known  no  whitewash  for  years; 
the  paint  on  the  noble  old  house  was  cracked  and 
peeling,  the  roof  of  the  barn  was  sunken  in,  and 
the  cabins  of  the  quarters  were  closed,  for  the  hand 
of  war,  though  unclinched,  still  lay  heavy  on  the 
home  of  the  Deans.  Snowball  came  to  take  his 
horse.  He  was  respectful,  but  his  white  teeth  did 
not  flash  the  welcome  Chad  once  had  known.  An 
other  horse  stood  at  the  hitching-post  and  on  it 
was  a  cavalry  saddle  and  a  rebel  army  blanket, 
and  Chad  did  not  have  to  guess  whose  it  might 
be.  From  the  porch,  Dan  shouted  and  came  down 
to  meet  him,  and  Harry  hurried  to  the  door,  fol 
lowed  by  Mrs.  Dean.  Margaret  was  not  to  be 
seen,  and  Chad  was  glad — he  would  have  a  little 
more  time  for  self-control.  She  did  not  appear 
even  when  they  were  seated  in  the  porch  until  Dan 
shouted  for  her  toward  the  garden;  and  then  look 
ing  toward  the  gate  Chad  saw  her  coming  up  the 
garden  walk  bareheaded,  dressed  in  white,  with 
flowers  in  her  hand;  and  walking  by  her  side, 
looking  into  her  face  and  talking  earnestly,  was 
Richard  Hunt.  The  sight  of  him  nerved  Chad 
at  once  to  steel.  Margaret  did  not  lift  her  face 
until  she  was  half-way  to  the  porch,  and  then  she 
stopped  suddenly. 

386 


PEACE 

"Why,  there's  Major  Buford,"  Chad  heard 
her  say,  and  she  came  on  ahead,  walking  rapidly. 
Chad  felt  the  blood  in  his  face  again,  and  as  he 
watched  Margaret  nearing  him — pale,  sweet, 
frank,  gracious,  unconscious — it  seemed  that  he 
was  living  over  again  another  scene  in  his  life 
when  he  had  come  from  the  mountains  to  live 
with  old  Major  Buford;  and,  with  a  sudden  prayer 
that  his  past  might  now  be  wiped  as  clean  as  it 
was  then,  he  turned  from  Margaret's  hand-clasp 
to  look  into  the  brave,  searching  eyes  of  Richard 
Hunt  and  feel  his  sinewy  fingers  in  a  grip  that  in 
all  frankness  told  Chad  plainly  that  between  them, 
at  least,  one  war  was  not  quite  over  yet. 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Major  Buford,  in 
these  piping  times  of  peace." 

"And  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  General  Hunt — 
only  in  times  of  peace,"  Chad  said,  smiling. 

The  two  measured  each  other  swiftly,  calmly.. 
Chad  had  a  mighty  admiration  for  Richard  Hunt, 
Here  was  a  man  who  knew  no  fight  but  to  the  fin 
ish,  who  would  die  as  gamely  in  a  drawing-room 
as  on  a  battle-field.  To  think  of  him — a  brigadier- 
general  at  twenty-seven,  as  undaunted,  as  unbeaten 
as  when  he  heard  the  first  bullet  of  the  war  whistle, 
and,  at  that  moment,  as  good  an  American  as 
Chadwick  Bufwd  or  any  Unionist  who  had  given 
his  life  for  his  cause!  Such  a  foe  thrilled  Chad, 
and  somehow  he  felt  that  Margaret  was  measur- 

387 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

ing   them    as    they   were    measuring   each    other. 
Against  such  a  man  what  chance  had  he  ? 

He  would  have  been  comforted  could  he  have 
known  Richard  Hunt's  thoughts,  for  that  gentle 
man  had  gone  back  to  the  picture  of  a  ragged 
mountain  boy  in  old  Major  Buford's  carriage,  one 
court  day  long  ago,  and  now  he  was  looking  that 
same  lad  over  from  the  visor  of  his  cap  down  his 
superb  length  to  the  heels  of  his  riding-boots.  His 
eyes  rested  long  on  Chad's  face.  The  change  was 
incredible,  but  blood  had  told.  The  face  was  high 
bred,  clean,  frank,  nobly  handsome;  it  had  strength 
and  dignity,  and  the  scar  on  his  cheek  told  a  story 
that  was  as  well  known  to  foe  as  to  friend. 

"I  have  .been  wanting  to  thank  you,  not  only 
for  trying  to  keep  us  out  of  that  infernal  prison 
after  the  Ohio  raid,  but  for  trying  to  get  us  out. 
Harry  here  told  me.  That  was  generous." 

"That  was  nothing,"  said  Chad.  "  You  forget, 
you  could  have  killed  me  once  and — and  you 
didn't."  Margaret  was  listening  eagerly. 

"You  didn't  give  me  time,"  laughed  General 
Hunt. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  did.  I  saw  you  lift  your  pistol  and 
drop  it  again.  I  have  never  ceased  to  wonder  why 
you  did  that." 

Richard  Hunt  laughed.  "Perhaps  I'm  sorry 
sometimes  that  I  did,"  he  said,  with  a  certain 
dryness. 

388 


Margaret  was  listening  eagerly. 


PEACE 

"Oh,  no,  you  aren't,  General,"  said  Mar 
garet. 

Thus  they  chatted  and  laughed  and  joked  to 
gether  above  the  sombre  tide  of  feeling  that 
showed  in  the  face  of  each  if  it  reached  not  his 
tongue,  for,  when  the  war  was  over,  the  hatchet 
in  Kentucky  was  buried  at  once  and  buried  deep. 
Son  came  back  to  father,  brother  to  brother,  neigh 
bor  to  neighbor;  political  disabilities  were  removed 
and  the  sundered  threads,  unravelled  by  the  war, 
were  knitted  together  fast.  That  is  why  the  post- 
bellum  terrors  of  reconstruction  were  practically 
unknown  in  the  State.  The  negroes  scattered,  to 
be  sure,  not  from  disloyalty  so  much  as  from  a 
feverish  desire  to  learn  whether  they  really  could 
come  and  go  as  they  pleased.  When  they  learned 
that  they  were  really  free,  most  of  them  drifted 
back  to  the  quarters  where  they  were  born,  and 
meanwhile  the  white  man's  hand  that  had  wielded 
the  sword  went  just  as  bravely  to  the  plough,  and 
the  work  of  rebuilding  war-shattered  ruins  began 
at  once.  Old  Mammy  appeared,  by  and  by,  shook 
hands  with  General  Hunt  and  made  Chad  a  curt 
sey  of  rather  distant  dignity.  She  had  gone  into 
exile  with  her  "chile"  and  her  "ole  Mistis"  and 
had  come  home  with  them  to  stay,  untempted  by 
the  doubtful  sweets  of  freedom.  "Old  Tom,  her 
husband,  had  remained  with  Major  Buford,  was 
with  him  on  his  deathbed,"  said  Margaret,  "and 

389 


THE    LITTLE"  SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

was  on  the  place  still,  too  old,  he  said,  to  take 
root  elsewhere." 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Dan  rose 
and  suggested  that  they  take  a  walk  about  the  place. 
Margaret  had  gone  in  for  a  moment  to  attend  to 
some  household  duty,  and  as  Richard  Hunt  was 
going  away  next  day  he  would  stay,  he  said,  with 
Mrs.  Dean,  who  was  tired  and  could  not  join  them. 
The  three  walked  toward  the  dismantled  barn 
where  the  tournament  had  taken  place  and  out 
into  the  woods.  Looking  back,  Chad  saw  Mar 
garet  and  General  Hunt  going  slowly  toward  the 
garden,  and  he  knew  that  some  crisis  was  at  hand 
between  the  two.  He  had  hard  work  listening  to 
Dan  and  Harry  as  they  planned  for  the  future, 
and  recalled  to  each  other  and  to  him  the  incidents 
of  their  boyhood.  Harry  meant  to  study  law,  he 
said,  and  practise  in  Lexington;  Dan  would  stay 
at  home  and  run  the  farm.  Neither  brother  men 
tioned  that  the  old  place  was  heavily  mortgaged, 
but  Chad  guessed  the  fact  an'd  it  made  him  heart 
sick  to  think  of  the  struggle  that  was  before  them 
and  of  the  privations  yet  in  store  for  Mrs.  Dean 
and  Margaret. 

"Why  don't  you,  Chad?" 

"Do  what?" 

"Stay  here  and  study  law,"  Harry  smiled. 
"We'll  go  into  partnership." 

Chad   shook  his   head.      "No,"   he   said,   deci- 

390 


PEACE 

sively.  "I've  already  made  up  my  mind.  I'm 
going  West." 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Harry,  and  no  more;  he  had 
learned  long  ago  how  useless  it  was  to  combat  any 
purpose  of  Chadwick  Buford. 

General  Hunt  and  Margaret  were  still  away 
when  they  got  back  to  the  house.  In  fact,  the  sun 
was  sinking  when  they  came  in  from  the  woods, 
still  walking  slowly,  General  Hunt  talking  ear 
nestly  and  Margaret  with  her  hands  clasped  be 
fore  her  and  her  eyes  on  the  path.  The  faces  of 
both  looked  pale,  even  that  far  away,  but  when 
they  neared  the  porch,  the  General  was  joking  and 
Margaret  was  smiling,  nor  was  anything  percep 
tible  to  Chad  when  he  said  good-by,  except  a  cer 
tain  tenderness  in  his  tone  and  manner  toward 
Margaret,  and  one  fleeting  look  of  distress  in  her 
clear  eyes.  He  was  on  his  horse  now,  and  was 
lifting  his  cap. 

"Good-by,  Major,"  he  said.  "I'm  glad  you 
got  through  the  war  alive.  Perhaps  I'll  tell  you 
some  day  why  I  didn't  shoot  you  that  morning." 
And  then  he  rode  away,  a  gallant,  knightly  figure, 
across  the  pasture.  At  the  gate  he  waved  his  cap 
and  at  a  gallop  was  gone. 

After  supper,  a  heaven-born  chance  led  Mrs. 
Dean  to  stroll  out  into  the  lovely  night.  Marga 
ret  rose  to  go  too,  and  Chad  followed.  The  same 
chance,  perhaps,  led  old  Mammy  to  come  out  on 

391 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

the  porch  and  call  Mrs.  Dean  back.  Chad  and 
Margaret  walked  on  toward  the  stiles  where  still 
hung  Margaret's  weather-beaten  Stars  and  Bars. 
The  girl  smiled  and  touched  the  flag. 

'That  was  very  nice  of  you  to  salute  me  that 
morning.  I  never  felt  so  bitter  against  Yankees 
after  that  day.  I'll  take  it  down  now,"  and  she 
detached  it  and  rolled  it  tenderly  about  the  slender 
staff. 

'That  was  not  my  doing,"  said  Chad,  "though 
if  I  had  been  Grant,  and  there  with  the  whole 
Union  army,  I  would  have  had  it  salute  you.  I 
was  under  orders,  but  I  went  back  for  help.  May 
I  carry  it  for  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Margaret,  handing  it  to  him.  Chad 
had  started  toward  the  garden,  but  Margaret 
turned  him  toward  the  stile  and  they  walked  now 
down  through  the  pasture  toward  the  creek  that 
ran  like  a  wind-shaken  ribbon  of  silver  under  the 
moon. 

"Won't  you  tell  me  something  about  Major 
Buford  ?  I've  been  wanting  to  ask,  but  I  simply 
hadn't  the  heart.  Can't  we  go  over  there  to 
night?  I  want  to  see  the  old  place,  and  I  must 
leave  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow!"  said  Margaret.  "Why— I— I 
was  going  to  take  you  over  there  to-morrow,  for 
I — but,  of  course,  you  must  go  to-night  if  it  is  to 
be  your  only  chance." 

392 


PEACE 

And  so,  as  they  walked  along,  Margaret  told 
Chad  of  the  old  Major's  last  days,  after  he  was 
released  from  prison,  and  came  home  to  die.  She 
went  to  see  him  every  day,  and  she  was  at  his 
bedside  when  he  breathed  his  last.  He  had 
mortgaged  his  farm  to  help  the  Confederate 
cause  and  to  pay  indemnity  for  a  guerilla  raid, 
and  Jerome  Conners  held  his  notes  for  large 
amounts. 

'The  lawyer  told  me  that  he  believed  some  of 
the  notes  were  forged,  but  he  couldn't  prove  it. 
He  says  it  is  doubtful  if  more  than  the  house  and 
a  few  acres  will  be  left."  A  light  broke  in  on 
Chad's  brain. 

"He  told  you?" 

Margaret  blushed.  "He  left  all  he  had  to  me," 
she  said,  simply. 

"I'm  so  glad,"  said  Chad. 

"Except  a  horse  which  belongs  to  you.  The 
old  mare  is  dead." 

"Dear  old  Major!" 

At  the  stone  fence  Margaret  reached  for  the 
flag. 

"We'll  leave  it  here  until  we  come  back,"  she 
said,  dropping  it  in  a  shadow.  Somehow  the  talk 
of  Major  Buford  seemed  to  bring  them  nearer  to 
gether — so  near  that  once  Chad  started  to  call  her 
by  her  first  name  and  stopped  when  it  had  half 
passed  his  lips.  Margaret  smiled. 

393 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

"The  war  is  over,"  she  said,  and  Chad  spoke 
eagerly: 

"And  you'll  call  me " 

"Yes,  Chad." 

The  very  leaves  over  Chad's  head  danced  sud 
denly,  and  yet  the  girl  was  so  simple  and  frank 
and  kind  that  the  springing  hope  in  his  breast  was 
as  quickly  chilled. 

"Did  he  ever  speak  of  me  except  about  business 
matters  ?" 

"Never  at  all  at  first,"  said  Margaret,  blushing 
again  incomprehensively,  "but  he  forgave  you  be 
fore  he  died." 

"Thank  God  for  that!" 

"And  you  will  see  what  he  did  for  you — the 
last  thing  of  his  life." 

They  were  crossing  the  field  now. 

"I  have  seen  Melissa,"  said  Margaret,  sud 
denly.  Chad  was  so  startled  that  he  stopped  in 
the  path. 

"She  came  all  the  way  from  the  mountains  to 
ask  if  you  were  dead,  and  to  tell  me  about — about 
your  mother.  She  had  just  learned  it,  she  said, 
and  she  did  not  know  that  you  knew.  And  I 
never  let  her  know  that  I  knew,  since  I  supposed 
you  had  some  reason  for  not  wanting  her  to 
know." 

"I  did,"  said  Chad,  sadly,  but  he  did  not  tell 
his  reason.  Melissa  would  never  have  learned 

394 


PEACE 

the  one  thing  from  him  as  Margaret  would  not 
learn  the  other  now. 

''She  came  on  foot  to  ask  about  you  and  to  de 
fend  you  against — against  me.  And  she  went 
back  afoot.  She  disappeared  one  morning  before 
we  got  up.  She  seemed  very  ill,  too,  and  unhappy. 
She  was  coughing  all  the  time,  and  I  wakened  one 
night  and  heard  her  sobbing,  but  she  was  so  sullen 
and  fierce  that  I  was  almost  afraid  of  her.  Next 
morning  she  was  gone.  I  would  have  taken  her 
part  of  the  way  home  myself.  Poor  thing!" 
Chad  was  walking  with  his  head  bent. 

"I'm  going  down  to  see  her  before  I  go  West." 

"You  are  going  West — to  live?" 

"Yes." 

They  had  reached  the  yard  gate  now  which 
creaked  on  rusty  hinges  when  Chad  pulled  it 
open.  The  yard  was  running  wild  with  plantains, 
the  gravelled  walk  was  overgrown,  the  house  was 
closed,  shuttered,  and  dark,  and  the  spirit  of  deso 
lation  overhung  the  place,  but  the  ruin  looked 
gentle  in  the  moonlight.  Chad's  throat  hurt  and 
his  eyes  filled. 

"I  want  to  show  you  now  the  last  thing  he  did," 
said  Margaret.  Her  eyes  lighted  with  tenderness 
and  she  led  him  wondering  down  through  the 
tangled  garden  to  the  old  family  graveyard. 

"Climb  over  and  look,  Chad,"  she  said,  leaning 
over  the  wall. 

395 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

There  was  the  grave  of  the  Major's  father 
which  he  knew  so  well;  next  that,  to  the  left,  was 
a  new  mound  under  which  rested  the  Major  him 
self.  To  the  right  was  a  stone  marked  "Chad- 
wick  Buford,  born  in  Virginia,  1750,  died  in 
Kentucky" — and  then  another  stone  marked 
simply: 

Mary  Buford. 

"He  had  both  brought  from  the  mountains," 
said  Margaret,  softly,  "and  the  last  time  he  was 
out  of  the  house  was  when  he  leaned  here  to  watch 
them  buried  there.  He  said  there  would  always 
be  a  place  next  your  mother  for  you.  'Tell  the 
boy  that/  he  said."  Chad  put  his  arms  around 
the  tombstone  and  then  sank  on  one  knee  by  his 
mother's  grave.  It  was  strewn  with  withered 
violets. 

"You — you  did  that,  Margaret?" 
Margaret  nodded  through  her  tears. 

The  wonder  of  it!  They  stood  very  still,  look 
ing  for  a  long  time  into  each  other's  eyes.  Could 
the  veil  of  the  hereafter  have  been  lifted  for  them 
at  that  moment  and  they  have  seen  themselves 
walking  that  same  garden  path,  hand  in  hand, 
their  faces  seamed  with  age  to  other  eyes,  but 
changed  in  not  a  line  to  them,  the  vision  would 
not  have  added  a  jot  to  their  perfect  faith.  They 


PEACE 

/vould  have  nodded  to  each  other  and  smiled — 
"Yes,  we  know,  we  know!"  The  night,  the  rush 
ing  earth,  the  star-swept  spaces  of  the  infinite  held 
no  greater  wonder  than  was  theirs — they  held  no 
wonder  at  all.  The  moon  shone,  that  night,  for 
them;  the  wind  whispered,  leaves  danced,  flowers 
nodded,  and  crickets  chirped  from  the  grass  for 
them;  the  farthest  star  kept  eternal  lids  apart  just 
for  them  and  beyond,  the  Maker  himself  looked 
down,  that  night,  just  to  bless  them. 

Back  they  went  through  the  old  garden,  hand 
in  hand.  No  caress  had  ever  passed  between 
these  two.  That  any  man  could  ever  dare  even  to 
dream  of  touching  her  sacred  lips  had  been  be 
yond  the  boy's  imaginings — such  was  the  rever 
ence  in  his  love  for  her — and  his  very  soul  shook 
when,  at  the  gate,  Margaret's  eyes  dropped  from 
his  to  the  sabre  cut  on  his  cheek  and  she  suddenly 
lifted  her  face. 

"I  know  how  you  got  that,  Chad,"  she  said, 
and  with  her  lips  she  gently  touched  the  scar. 
Almost  timidly  the  boy  drew  her  to  him.  Again 
her  lips  were  lifted  in  sweet  surrender,  and  every 
wound  that  he  had  known  in  his  life  was  healed. 


"I'll  show  you  your  horse,  Chad." 
They  did  not  waken  old  Tom,  but  went  around 
to  the  stable  and  Chad  led  out  a  handsome  colt, 

397 


THE   LITTLE   SHEPHERD   OF   KINGDOM   COME 

his  satiny  coat  shining  in  the  moonlight  like  sil 
ver.  He  lifted  his  proud  head,  when  he  saw  Mar 
garet,  and  whinnied. 

"He  knows  his  mistress,  Margaret — and  he's 
yours." 

"Oh,  no,  Chad." 

"Yes,"  said  Chad,  "I've  still  got  Dixie." 

"Do  you  still  call  her  Dixie  ?" 

"All  through  the  war." 

Homeward  they  went  through  the  dewy  fields. 

"I  wish  I  could  have  seen  the  Major  before  he 
died.  If  he  could  only  have  known  how  I  suf 
fered  at  causing  him  so  much  sorrow.  And  if 
you  could  have  known— 

"He  did  know  and  so  did  I — later.  All  that 
is  over  now." 

They  had  reached  the  stone  wall  and  Chad 
picked  up  the  flag  again. 

"This  is  the  only  time  I  have  ever  carried  this 
flag,  unless  I — unless  it  had  been  captured." 

"You  had  captured  it,  Chad." 

"There  ?"  Chad  pointed  to  the  stile  and  Mar 
garet  nodded. 

' '  There — here — everywhere." 

Seated  on  the  porch,  Mrs.  Dean  and  Harry  and 
Dan  saw  them  coming  across  the  field  and  Mrs. 
Dean  sighed. 

"Father  would  not  say  a  word  against  it, 
mother,"  said  the  elder  boy,  "if  he  were  here." 

398   J 


PEACE 

"No,"  said  Dan,  "not  a  word." 

"Listen,  mother,"  said  Harry,  and  he  told  the 
two  about  Chad's  ride  for  Dan  from  Frankfort 
to  Lexington.  "He  asked  me  not  to  tell.  He 
did  not  wish  Margaret  to  know.  And  listen  again, 
mother.  In  a  skirmish  one  day  we  were  fighting 
hand  to  hand.  I  saw  one  man  with  his  pistol 
levelled  at  me  and  another  with  his  sabre  lifted 
on  Chad.  He  saw  them  both.  My  pistol  was 
empty,  and  do  you  know  what  he  did  ?  He  shot 
the  man  who  was  about  to  shoot  me  instead  of  his 
own  assailant.  That  is  how  he  got  that  scar.  I 
did  tell  Margaret  that." 

"Yes,  you  must  go  down  in  the  mountains 
first,"  Margaret  was  saying,  "and  see  if  there  is 
anything  you  can  do  for  the  people  who  were  so 
good  to  you — and  to  see  Melissa.  I  am  worried 
about  her.M 

"And  then  I  must  come  back  to  you  ?" 

"Yes,  you  must  come  back  to  see  me  once  more, 
if  you  can.  And  then  some  day  you  will  come 
again  and  buy  back  the  Major's  farm" — she 
stopped,  blushing.  "I  think  that  was  his  wish, 
Chad,  that  you  and  I — but  I  would  never  let  him 
say  it." 

"And  if  that  should  take  too  long?" 

"I  will  come  to  you,  Chad,"  said  Margaret. 

Old  Mammy  came  out  on  the  porch  as  they 
were  climbing  the  stile. 

399 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

"Ole  Miss,"  she  said,  indignantly,  "my  Tom 
say  that  he  can't  get  nary  a  triflin'  nigger  to  come 
out  hyeh  to  wuk,  an'  ef  that  cawnfiel'  ain't 
ploughed  mighty  soon,  it's  gwine  to  bu'n  up." 

"How  many  horses  are  there  on  the  place, 
Mammy?"  asked  Dan. 

"Hosses!"  sniffed  the  old  woman.  '' They  ain't 
nary  a  hoss — nothin'  but  two  ole  broken-down 
mules." 

"Well,  I'll  take  one  and  start  a  plough  myself," 
said  Harry. 

"And  I'll  take  the  other,"  said  Dan. 

Mammy  groaned. 


And  still  the  wonder  of  that  night  to  Chad  and 
Margaret! 

"It  was  General  Hunt  who  taught  me  to  under 
stand — and  forgive.  Do  you  know  what  he  said  ? 
That  every  man,  on  both  sides,  was  right — who 
did  his  duty." 

"God  bless  him,"  said  Chad. 


400 


XXXI 

THE   WESTWARD   WAY 

IV/TOTHER  TURNER  was  sitting  in  the 
porch  with  old  Jack  at  her  feet  when 
Chad  and  Dixie  came  to  the  gate — her  bonnet  off, 
her  eyes  turned  toward  the  West.  The  stillness 
of  death  lay  over  the  place,  and  over  the  strong 
old  face  some  preternatural  sorrow.  She  did  not 
rise  when  she  saw  Chad,  she  did  not  speak  when 
he  spoke.  She  turned  merely  and  looked  at  him 
with  a  look  of  helpless  suffering.  She  knew  the 
question  that  was  on  his  lips,  for  she  dumbly  mo 
tioned  toward  the  door  and  then  put  her  trembling 
hands  on  the  railing  of  the  porch  and  bent  her 
face  down  on  them.  With  sickening  fear,  Chad 
stepped  on  the  threshold — cap  in  hand — and  old 
Jack  followed,  whimpering.  As  his  eyes  grew 
accustomed  to  the  dark  interior,  he  could  see  a 
sheeted  form  on  a  bed  in  the  corner  and,  on  the 
pillow,  a  white  face. 

"Melissa!"  he  called,  brokenly.  A  groan  from 
the  porch  answered  him,  and,  as  Chad  dropped 
to  his  knees,  the  old  woman  sobbed  aloud. 

In  low  tones,  as  though  in  fear  they  might  dis- 
401 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM   COME 

turb  the  dead  girl's  sleep,  the  two  talked  on  the 
porch.  Brokenly,  the  old  woman  told  Chad  how 
the  girl  had  sickened  and  suffered  with  never  a 
word  of  complaint.  How,  all  through  the  war, 
she  had  fought  his  battles  so  fiercely  that  no  one 
dared  attack  him  in  her  hearing.  How,  sick  as 
she  was,  she  had  gone,  that  night,  to  save  his  life. 
How  she  had  nearly  died  from  the  result  of  cold 
and  exposure  and  was  never  the  same  afterward. 
How  she  worked  in  the  house  and  in  the  garden 
to  keep  their  bodies  and  souls  together,  after  the 
old  hunter  was  shot  down  and  her  boys  were  gone 
to  the  war.  How  she  had  learned  the  story  of 
Chad's  mother  from  old  Nathan  Cherry's  daugh 
ter  and  how,  when  the  old  woman  forbade  her 
going  to  the  Bluegrass,  she  had  slipped  away  and 
gone  afoot  to  clear  his  name.  And  then  the  old 
woman  led  Chad  to  where  once  had  grown  the 
rose-bush  he  had  brought  Melissa  from  the  Blue- 
grass,  and  pointed  silently  to  a  box  that  seemed 
to  have  been  pressed  a  few  inches  into  the  soft 
earth,  and  when  Chad  lifted  it,  he  saw  under  it 
the  imprint  of  a  human  foot — his  own,  made  that 
morning  when  he  held  out  a  rose-leaf  to  her  and 
she  had  struck  it  from  his  hand  and  turned  him, 
as  an  enemy,  from  her  door. 

Chad  silently  went  inside  and  threw  open  the 
window  to  let  the  last  sunlight  in:  and  he  sat 
there,  with  his  face  as  changeless  as  the  still  face 

402 


THE  WESTWARD  WAY 


on  the  pillow,  sat  there  until  the  sun  went  down 
and  the  darkness  came  in  and  closed  softly  about 
her  She  had  died,  the  old  woman  said,  with  his 
name  on  her  lips. 


Dolph  and  Rube  had  come  back  and  they  would 
take  good  care  of  the  old  mother  until  the  end 
of  her  days.  But  Jack — what  should  be  done  with 
Jack  ?  The  old  dog  could  follow  him  no  longer. 
He  could  live  hardly  more  than  another  year,  and 
the  old  mother  wanted  him — to  remind  her,  she 
said,  of  Chad  and  of  Melissa,  who  had  loved 
him.  He  patted  his  faithful  old  friend  tenderly 
and,  when  he  mounted  Dixie,  late  the  next  after 
noon,  Jack  started  to  follow  him. 

"No,  Jack,"  said  Chad,  and  he  rode  on,  with 
his  eyes  blurred.  On  the  top  of  the  steep  moun 
tain  he  dismounted,  to  let  his  horse  rest  a  moment, 
and  sat  on  a  log,  looking  toward  the  sun.  He 
could  not  go  back  to  Margaret  and  happiness — 
not  now.  It  seemed  hardly  fair  to  the  dead  girl 
down  in  the  valley.  He  would  send  Margaret 
word,  and  she  would  understand. 

Once  again  he  was  starting  his  life  over  afresh, 
with  his  old  capital,  a  strong  body  and  a  stout 
heart.  In  his  breast  still  burned  the  spirit  that 
had  led  his  race  to  the  land,  had  wrenched  it  from 
savage  and  from  king,  had  made  it  the  high  tem- 

403 


THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF   KINGDOM    COME 

pie  of  Liberty  for  the  worship  of  freemen — the 
Kingdom  Come  for  the  oppressed  of  the  earth — 
and,  himself  the  unconscious  Shepherd  of  that 
Spirit,  he  was  going  to  help  carry  its  ideals  across 
a  continent  Westward  to  another  sea  and  on — 
who  knows — to  the  gates  of  the  rising  sun.  An 
eagle  swept  over  his  head,  as  he  rose,  and  the  soft 
patter  of  feet  sounded  behind  him.  It  was  Jack 
trotting  after  him.  He  stooped  and  took  the  old 
dog  in  his  arms. 

"Go  back  home,  Jack!"  he  said. 

Without  a  whimper,  old  Jack  slowly  wheeled, 
but  he  stopped  and  turned  again  and  sat  on  his 
haunches — looking  back. 

"Go  home,  Jack!"  Again  the  old  dog  trotted 
down  the  path  and  once  more  he  turned. 

"Home,  Jack!"    said  Chad. 

The  eagle  was  a  dim,  black  speck  in  the  band 
of  yellow  that  lay  over  the  rim  of  the  sinking  sun, 
and  after  its  flight,  horse  and  rider  took  the  west 
ward  way. 


404 


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